After the War
by Behindthebook08
Summary: As Hermione begins her eighth, and final year, at Hogwarts alone, she finds herself desperately in need of some inspiration. Can Minerva be the one to spark her passion once again? (Reviews would be greatly appreciated! M rating for language and mentions of Rape, no lemons to be found.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A few brief notes before you begin this journey with me. This is my first truly full length fic, and I would GREATLY appreciate all reviews and thoughts in regards to it. Please note: I have disregarded the epilogue entirely, made several events occur duing DH that never did, and have brought many Characters back to life. As it stands Dumbledore died, but Snape is alive. Fred, and Remus also survive in my happy little world. Also, I have played with the ages here, and I realize that. Minerva is significantly younger, though still nearly double Hermione's age. Remus is slightly younger, and Hermione is 19 for her eight year. (That age actually does line up rather nicely.) Finally, the M rating here is based upon mentions of Rape, and some strong language. There is no lemon to be found here, though if you are in search I do suggest one of my other recent one-shots, "Whispered Nights".**

**So without further ado, I present you with "After the War", I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The first time Hermione met with Minerva, it was the Fall of her eighth year at Hogwarts. She had chosen to return to school, despite numerous Ministry offers, and an offer at St. Mungos. In her mind, Hogwarts was her home, and she needed to finish that journey. Harry and Ron, on the other hand, had immediately joined the workforce—Harry, starting Auror training, and Ron, working at the joke shop with Fred and George. They were both happy, and Hermione didn't mind returning on her own. In truth, she wanted the time apart to breathe and revive herself after the tribulations of the war.

As her first Transfiguration lesson ended, Professor McGonagall made an announcement, "Finally, all eighth year students are encouraged to meet with me at some point throughout this semester to discuss future career options and life paths. Thank you and I will see you all Thursday." Minerva watched as Hermione quietly gathered her books and left for her next class. She sighed to herself; she had seen very little of the Head Girl since she returned to Hogwarts, but she could tell something was different. Minerva hoped that it was just a bit of loneliness due to the loss of her two friends, if that was the case, she would be alright soon enough. Either way, her star pupil was not herself, and Minerva vowed to pay attention.

It was mid-October when Hermione came to see her after class. Minerva had scheduled meetings throughout the afternoon, but she assured Hermione that she would meet with her promptly at five o'clock, Hermione had nodded numbly and pulled out a book. Minerva frowned slightly as she made her way into her office—Hermione still hadn't reverted back to her old self. Sure, her school work was impeccable as always, and she was always extremely polite, but somehow she had lost a certain spark about her. She didn't seem excited—hell, she didn't even seem interested in her classes anymore. Where she was always warm and empathetic, she now flinched at the slightest contact and withdrew into herself. Minerva was worried.

When five o'clock came, Minerva beckoned to Hermione, "Come in, Miss Granger! I was wondering when I would see you. I'm surprised it took so long."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," she said quietly. "I should have come sooner."

Minerva frowned, "Nonsense, Hermione. I'm just glad to see you. How've you been?"

"I'm—alright, Professor. I—I just seem to be having some trouble with the most recent essay…"

Minerva's eyebrows rose, "Are you? You've never had trouble before. Where is the confusion?"

Hermione stared at her fingernails, "I—I don't know. I just, I don't really know what I should write about—and the assignment was rather confusing."

"Well what are you confused about, Hermione?" she asked again, as she watched the girl closely.

"I don't know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come, Professor, I'm sorry." She mumbled quickly, picking up her bag.

"Hermione, stop being ridiculous, and sit down." Minerva called sternly, "Please, calm down. I will happily help you in any way I can, but you have to tell me what the problem is. As your semester project, I'm asking you to pick a transfiguration theory which intrigues you and write about it. Experiment, research, even apply it to your own life. It is meant to be a personal project, something which will inspire your own creativity and drive."

"I know." Hermione whispered.

"I would have thought this would be overly simple for you, Miss. Granger. You have been writing extra papers for me since you were a first year, and researching topics of interest since before you even started at Hogwarts."

"I know," Hermione said, trembling slightly. "I'm sorry professor; I just don't know how to complete this assignment."

Minerva took a breath, "Hermione, forget about the assignment for a moment."

"But—" Hermione started.

"Just for a moment," Minerva insisted. "I assure you; the assignment will not be forgotten."

Hermione nodded lightly, "Alright, I suppose…"

"Hermione, what's going on with you?" She asked bluntly. "You're unfocused, disinterested, and for lack of a better term, lost. You've been that way all year. What happened to you?"

"I don't know what you—"

"Hermione," Minerva scolded, "You don't have to tell me things, and you don't have to talk to me, but do not lie to me. You are a strong and brilliant woman; you do not need to result to such childish antics!"

"I'm sorry, I'm trying Professor!" Hermione snapped, tears coming to her eyes. "I'm trying, really I am. It's just—difficult right now."

"What's difficult?" Minerva prodded.

"I don't know—everything, everything is difficult. Nothing is the same. The war—it changed everything," Hermione shook. "I'm supposed to pretend everything's alright when absolutely _nothing _is alright! How am I supposed to be inspired to learn, when I'm not even inspired to live?"

Minerva softened, as she watched the smaller woman twitching slightly in her seat. Hermione held herself as if she would crumple at any moment. "Hermione, no one expects you to be perfect."

"Bullshit." Hermione swore, as Minerva's eyebrows rose. As far as she could remember, Hermione Granger had never, ever, sworn.

"Excuse me?"

"Bull. Shit." Hermione articulated, standing up suddenly. "I disappeared for a year, a year Minerva. And everyone just wants to pretend that nothing happened during that year. They want to pretend that no one was killed, no one was tortured. I'm supposed to call people who fought, plotted, and researched at my side—people whose lives I saved, Professor and Sir, rather than their given names. I'm supposed to be polite towards the boy whose home I was tortured in six months ago! Everyone wants to pretend none of it happened, and because of that—it's all going to happen again."

"Hermione—" Minerva tried.

"No." Hermione said firmly, "You wanted me to talk, well I'm talking. I'm not alright Minerva! My life has been torn to shreds, and I'm just trying to pick up the pieces. You, and everyone else, expect me to be that same twinkle eyed prodigy that walked through the front gates eight years ago—but I can't. That girl—that girl is dead. She died in the Malfoy ballroom—and in a dozen other places."

It was Minerva's turn to be speechless, and slightly proud. "Hermione, I'm sorry."

Hermione sat down, burying her hands in her hair. "No Professor, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper. Just please try to understand, it isn't easy for me right now. I thought I could come back and forget; that I could find my way again through learning. But it isn't that easy." She sighed. "You're the first person to even ask. People here—they don't talk to me anymore. The professors feel awkward; they don't know how to treat me. The students are afraid of me. How can I write a paper about what I'm passionate about, when I'm not passionate about anything anymore?"

Minerva took Hermione's hand in hers, "Hermione Granger, you are one of the most passionate women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I do not doubt for a moment, that you will find that passion again. And if you need an extension on your project until you can find that passion, we can discuss that." Hermione nodded as she picked up her bag again, heading towards the door.

"I really am sorry Professor, I came here for your help and I ended up just being disrespectful. It's not appropriate."

Minerva paused for a moment, "Hermione?" she called out. "I think it's about time you start calling me Minerva, actually. At least when we visit privately. You—you will always be my student, but that does not mean I am your superior. You have earned my respect, and my friendship." Hermione stared at her, taken aback for a moment.

"Thank you… Minerva. I appreciate that."

"Any time, Hermione," she said lightly, as the girl shut the door behind her.

* * *

**Note: Expect an update several times a week, I already have 23 chapters completed, so this story will not be abandoned. :-)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Please Review!**

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Minerva sat massaging her temples as she listened to the rambling of her colleagues during their most recent staff-meeting. She understood the importance of team work, but this really was getting quite tiresome.

"Alright, alright, enough. Severus, you are quite right, we will need to order more cauldrons as the old ones simply are not up to snuff anymore. Poppy, I'm sure Severus would happily help you with your brewing for the upcoming flu season—especially seeing as he is going to be receiving more cauldrons within the week." She said with a look. "Pomona, a simple undetectable extension charm should give you the extra room for you blossoming spindle plants, and allow them the room to flourish, you certainly don't need a _sixth _green house. And Argus, you will not, nor will you ever, get permission to physically punish students. If you continue to make such requests you will be forced to find a new place of employment. Understood?"

The staff table nodded carefully, and Minerva couldn't help but smirk slightly. Even after all of these years she could make them shiver as much as her first year students. "Any other issues which need to be addressed?" Her staff shook their heads, waiting to be dismissed. "Alright, I have one final note to discuss. I have decided to offer one of our eighth year students the opportunity to apprentice under one of the professors here. She is being stifled by the ease of her coursework, and I think that an opportunity of this sort would appeal to her, I also believe that she has proved herself worthy of such an unusual experience. I myself will be offering the opportunity, but I also wanted to welcome any of you to volunteer."

"Who is the student?" asked Flitwick, "I certainly think that would make the difference."

Minerva smiled, knowing the reactions she would receive, "Miss. Hermione Granger," she answered, watching the interested faces in the room.

"Well that certainly does make a difference," Trelawny spit, "I will not have that girl working with me, she is the most magically incapable girl I have _ever_ met."

Minerva nearly growled at the woman, but out of respect for Dumbledore's memory, she held her tongue. She was quickly distracted by the haste of volunteers. In the end, Professors' Flitwick, Hagrid, Sinistra, Lupin, Sprout, and even Snape, had volunteered their time.

"Well then, now that we've settled that, you're all dismissed. Thank you for your time," then, as an afterthought, "Oh, Severus, a word?"

He waited patiently for the other staff members to leave, and approached her. "What is it Minerva?"

"Severus, why on earth did you volunteer? Even I know that you find Hermione to be unbearable."

Severus considered her for a moment, "She is lacking in tact, is temperamental, and arrogant. She also has a desperate need to be right at all times, and asks far too many questions."

"But?"

"But," he sighed, "She also has a definite talent for potions, and is the only student I have seen in many years who does. With proper teaching, she may be bearable, and it would be a shame to lose the research she may be able to contribute to the art." He answered painfully.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she smirked as Severus glanced at her with the utmost annoyance.

* * *

_Hermione,_

_If you are available, I would appreciate meeting with you tomorrow after classes let out, I have a matter which I would like to discuss with you. 5 pm again? _

_Kindly,  
Minerva _

Hermione stared at the parchment before her; it had arrived just as she got out of her evening shower. Minerva wanted to meet with her? Again? What on earth could she want?_ She's probably realized how silly you were the last time you talked, she probably wants to reprimand you!_, she thought. No, that didn't make sense, not the way it was worded. Hermione sent back her simple reply, and went to sleep; trying desperately not to worry about the meeting she had with Minerva the following afternoon.

* * *

Minerva looked up from her papers as a soft knock sounded on her office door, "Enter," she said, but softened upon seeing her student. "Hermione, I'm so pleased you could come. Tea?"

"No thank you," Hermione replied politely, "Professor if this is about our last meeting, I really am sorry—"

"Hermione don't worry, bridge under the water." She said, handing her a cup of tea, despite the girl's words. "Drink the tea, it's good for you."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled.

"Actually, something of your….for lack of a better word, rant, inspired me." She said, watching as Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "I have discussed it with the other professors, and we would like to offer you a rather unusual opportunity. Over the years you have shown yourself to be well beyond the usual coursework administered here, and I would guess you have read all of your course books more than once at this point." Hermione blushed darkly, and Minerva smiled. "As such, I think you're right. Our treatment of you should not be the same as it has been. We would like to give you the opportunity to study under one of several professors privately—in the muggle world it would be something akin to an internship. An apprenticeship if you would prefer! You will help the professors with various tasks necessary to their job, take part in advanced research and methods, and work beyond what you have previously had the opportunity to study. At the end of the year you will submit an essay on a topic which will be decided by you and your Professor which demonstrates not only your knowledge of the subject matter, but also your experience under such a program."

Hermione's mouth hung open comically, and she stared shocked at her professor. "Professor McGonagall, Minerva, I don't know what to say."

"Hermione, you don't have to accept," Minerva said clearly, "Goodness knows our world has asked too much of you already, and you deserve the break if you so choose. But I also think you deserve opportunities. Mostly—you deserve to have the choice." Hermione beamed at her. "If you decide to take this opportunity you will have the option of studying Charms, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, or Transfiguration."

"Could I—" Hermione began, but Minerva interrupted her swiftly.

"You may _only _choose one," she smiled, "so decide carefully. I would like your decision no sooner, or later, than Friday. I think four days should be enough time to decide."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, her eyes glowing, "Thank you so much, Minerva. You—I know this was your idea, and it means a lot. Thank you."

"You are most welcome Miss. Granger. Oh, and one other thing, before I forget." She handed Hermione a magazine from her desk. "It's the most recent issue of Transfiguration Today. I know you haven't been quite as interested lately, but there is a fascinating article regarding the transfiguration of birds and the complexities which arise due to the abnormal bone density in avian species. I think you would very much enjoy the theories presented. Don't worry though, this isn't an assignment by any means." Minerva smiled at the girl, knowing full well she wasn't playing fair. She was hoping that the article, would inspire Hermione a bit. Something beyond what her classmates were learning.

"Thank you, Minerva, I look forward to reading it," She smiled again as she slipped the magazine carefully into her bag. "I will see you on Thursday. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hermione."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione, Minerva, or any of the other delightful characters in this story. I just play within the ever talented J.K. Rowling's world.**

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I have the most magnificent news! Minerva has just offered me the chance to study advanced magic privately with one of the professors, she seemed to realize how bored I've been in classes, and wanted to give me a chance to do something more productive! I'm amazed, even Professor Snape volunteered, can you believe it? _

_I have the choice between Potions, Transfiguration, DADA, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Astronomy, or Charms. I'm leaning towards Charms, Transfiguration, or Potions—as unpleasant as Snape can be, I do enjoy the challenge, and the art. And while Charms is seen as silly by quite a few people, I find it to be the most practical magic, and the most versatile. Then there's Transfiguration, which is by far the most challenging, and the most intriguing. I don't know how practical it would be, but I would love to learn more, and discuss more with Minerva. _

_What do you think?_

_I'm glad to hear from your last letter that things are going well at the Auror Academy. You must be patient Harry; you can't expect to be head of the department overnight. I'm sure once you finish training you will rise through the ranks very quickly. You are the chosen one after all! (I just know you're going to send me a howler for that!) Just remember, Harry, teamwork is key. You can't go running off on adventures anymore, or you'll never pass your training exams. _

_In response to your questions about Ron, no I haven't spoken to him recently. Ron and I will remain good friends, and I'm sure that we'll patch up our difference eventually, but at the moment, that isn't what he wants. I'm sorry, Harry, I just can't be with him. The war—it changed things. And neither of us is looking for what the other has to offer anymore. I'm sure that Ron will move on in time, you know he is tougher than he seems._

_Good luck on your date with Luna, you two will make a surprisingly fitting pair._

_All my love,  
Hermione_

Hermione frowned slightly as she reread the letter, she hoped it would suffice. As much information as she provided, she knew it wouldn't be enough for Harry. He still wanted to know why she wasn't romantically involved with Ron, and that just wasn't a conversation she was ready to have. She also knew that he didn't understand why she didn't join him at the Auror Academy, and would be wondering why she didn't immediately choose Defense as her primary study.

Harry was her best friend, but he always had trouble understanding that aspect of her. She had spent seven years fighting—defending. She had no interest in continuing that way. She didn't want danger in her life, not any more. She shivered slightly thinking about it. She wanted stability, and that was something which Harry just didn't fully grasp.

As Hermione thought more about it, she found herself more and more drawn to Transfiguration. While she loved Charms, she really was looking for more of a challenge. And Potions was a fantastic art, but she could learn that in a variety of ways in the future. Transfiguration was different—it was challenging and controversial; and new spells and discoveries were constantly being made. The same could be said of Potions, but Transfiguration had one thing Potions lacked— Professor Minerva McGonagall.

Minerva was the top name in Transfiguration and teaching, and if Hermione was going to learn from anyone, it should be her. She just hoped Minerva was truly willing to teach her, it didn't seem completely implausible that Minerva had offered simply to avoid the awkwardness of _not _offering.

She shook her head. No, Minerva would never offer to do something she didn't want to do, that wasn't her way.

Hermione smiled, it was decided. She was going to privately study under the tutelage of Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Mistress, and Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

This was going to be an interesting year.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was frustrated. She paced her quarters till nearly 1 am, and still she couldn't sleep. This wasn't a problem she was accustomed to having, and therefore, it made her all the more irritable. And to top it off, the cause of her insomnia was one frizzy haired eighth year.

What was wrong with her? She was nervously pacing as if she was back in school herself, desperately hoping that her favorite student would choose to study with her. It was selfish, Minerva knew that much. Hermione could go very far in a variety of subjects, and there was no concrete reason she should choose Transfiguration, but Minerva _wanted _her to. She saw a light in the girl, and she wanted to feed it. She wanted to teach her, and hell, she wanted someone to converse with about the subject who could keep up. Since Dumbledore's passing she hadn't had a single person to discuss things with, and it was infuriating!

No one seemed up to the challenge of becoming a Master of Transfiguration, and therefore there were very few of them. Minerva wanted to teach Hermione for Hermione's sake, but she also wanted to have a true colleague, and the girl—despite being nearly thirty years younger, was her best chance. And so Minerva paced.

Admittedly, Minerva also wanted to be able to keep a closer eye on her new found friend. Hermione was strong, and intelligent—but something was wrong, and despite the girl's excitement over the opportunity, Minerva was not convinced all was mended. She wanted to stay close, and make sure that Hermione continued to heal, however slow that process may be.

It was nearly two when Minerva finally gave in and summoned a sleeping draught. She had a full day of classes tomorrow, and if she didn't get to sleep soon, she would never survive.

* * *

When her second to last period of the day let out, Minerva let out a sigh relief. She was ready for this day to be over. Her sixth years had been especially unfocussed today, and any class which included Gryffindors and Slytherins was guaranteed to be exhausting. It seemed that the war would never end at Hogwarts. She had one class to go, and she smiled lightly thinking of her seventh and eighth year students. They were a good class, and then she could go back to her rooms and sleep. She didn't think even her Hermione dilemma would keep her awake at this point.

Just as she began contemplating whether or not she could avoid dinner, she heard a light cough in front of her, causing her to jump slightly. "Sorry," she said, shaking her head. She smiled when she realized it was Hermione asking for her attention. "Miss. Granger, what can I do for you."

She handed Minerva's magazine over the desk, "I wanted to thank you for lending it to me, and ask if you perhaps had time to discuss the article after class?"

"Of course," Minerva said, stifling a yawn.

"Are you sure?" Hermione inquired, lowering her voice a touch, "With respect, you seem exhausted. If you need to wait till another time I understand…"

"Don't worry about me Hermione; I've been dying to discuss that article with someone. If you are up to the task, I will not complain." Hermione beamed at her, and Minerva couldn't help but chuckle, finding the young woman's enthusiasm endearing.

By the time the class ended Hermione was practically bursting from her seat, and Minerva couldn't help but admit that she was feeling significantly more awake. As the last of her students spilled out, Hermione nearly skipped to the front desk, immediately launching into her thoughts, "That article was brilliant, Minerva! I couldn't believe that I had never taken the bone structure of an animal into account when considering their willingness to be transfigured, and the effect that it would have on the object after the fact. Similarly, I never considered the more permanent ramifications on the animal once it was set back to its original state! When you think about it, animal transfiguration is rather barbaric if performed by anyone other than a highly skilled Transfiguration expert!"

Minerva grinned wickedly, "Well I'm glad you think so highly of my first-year curriculum, Miss. Granger."

Hermione paled, stuttering violently, "I—no—I didn't mean, obviously you—"

Minerva laughed audibly, "I was joking Hermione, that research is only just being discovered. Obviously I would have rethought such an assignment if I had considered it before."

Hermione smiled broadly again, "Minerva McGonagall, joking—what would the students think?!"

"Hermione, how about we continue this upstairs over some tea. I'm exhausted and would thoroughly appreciate the pick-me-up." Hermione nodded and followed the older woman to her quarters. When they stepped through the portrait hole she could hear Hermione's gasp, and smiled to herself. The door opened directly into her living room, of which every wall was covered bookshelves. There was a large bay window, with a seat in it, and a fireplace against the far wall. It was less of a living room, and more of a private library. Minerva hadn't even considered how much Hermione would appreciate such a place.

"Minerva—this is beautiful. It's yours?" she asked timidly.

"All mine. They offered me Albus' quarters after—but I couldn't part with my own. I've lived here for the past twenty years; I couldn't imagine being at home anywhere else."

"I can't imagine_ wanting_ to be at home anywhere else," Hermione sighed.

"Tea?" Minerva offered.

"Hmm? Oh, oh yes please. That would be lovely." As Minerva stepped into the kitchen to make tea, she saw Hermione lightly fingering the books on her wall, sounds of delight escaping her from time to time. "Minerva, you have a fantastic collection of muggle books here as well!" she exclaimed.

"I should expect so. I was reading long before I turned eleven, and as a half-blood myself, I have quite the fondness for Muggle novels and plays," she explained. "I actually have a doctorate specializing in the plays and poetry of William Shakespeare. I took some time away from the wizarding world after I graduated from Hogwarts, and that was how I used it."

"I would love to have the time to study more of that," Hermione admitted, "But I couldn't imagine living away from the wizarding world at this point. I've simply got to find the push in myself I suppose." Hermione turned and made her way towards the couch, where Minerva had settled upon finishing the tea.

"I'm sure you will find it. You're an ambitious woman, even if your focus is a bit divided at the moment." Minerva smiled, "I am glad you found the time to read that article though. I was sure you would be interested, especially with the moral way in which you consider magic. I've noticed that while most of my students consider the moral implications in subjects such as Defense and Potions, very few consider it in regards to Transfiguration. They see it as—well, to quote Severus, 'foolish wand waving'. They don't understand that you are, in many cases, dealing with beings which are very much alive."

Hermione nodded, "I've tried to explain that to Harry and Ron on so many occasions. They still refer to Draco Malfoy as 'ferret' every time they see him; they have no understanding of the real danger which Draco was in at that point in time. I loathe the man, I truly do, but that doesn't change the fact that at fourteen years old a convicted death eater attempted complex transfiguration and tortured him using it. Imagine if he hadn't been successful?!" She exclaimed, "They're wonderful boys, but Harry still views magic in such a naïve simple light. As if watching a muggle magic show. He waves a wand, and something happens. He doesn't think about the science. And Ron is simply too vengeful to understand. Fifteen years from now he will be standing at the Hogwarts express, loading his children on for their first year, and he will _still_ be warning them to steer clear of Draco Malfoy's children."

"And that would not be your choice?" Minerva questioned.

"Certainly not. Would I have a bit of a shudder if a daughter of mine brought home a Malfoy child as her partner? Yes, I would be a bit worried. But I would be wrong in that situation, that child has had no choice in regards to their family name, nor their history. It's exactly the same as people judging me because my parents are muggles," she frowned, shaking her head. "I actually feel nearly the same about Draco himself, though some of the things he has said to me, and witnessed, simply do not lend us to friendship."

Minerva found a new respect growing for the woman sitting next to her, not only for her understanding of familial differences, and morality, but also of her consideration in the use of the word 'Partner' rather than boyfriend or girlfriend. Minerva had forgotten how refreshing it was to talk to witches who hadn't completely left their muggleborn childhoods behind. The wizarding world was so far off in the realm of modern social issues. "Hermione, that is extremely impressive," she said. "Many grown wizards couldn't find it in themselves to be so understanding."

Hermione laughed lightly, "Minerva? I _am_ a grown witch," she laughed.

"Well of course, I only meant…"

"It's alright, Minerva, I just wanted to point it out. I'm just past 19 now, and yet I keep being reminded of how _mature_ I am for a child. It's laughable, really," Hermione chuckled. "Of course I don't mean you; you treat me as an equal, not some child. The thought just occurred to me."

"Just know, Hermione. I don't think of you as a child in any way. In fact, I sometimes forget how young you are. But I'm glad that you joined me this afternoon. I was planning on just sleeping the afternoon away, but this is a far better use of my time."

"I'm sorry you haven't been sleeping well, if at any point you would prefer for me to leave just let me know. I wouldn't be offended. I was just excited. Honestly it's been quite a long time since I was excited."

"I feel the same way, Hermione. It is rare I can have such a conversation anymore."

Hermione smiled, "Well, that leads well into what I also wanted to discuss with you, which is my studies." Minerva straightened up.

"I told you I didn't want to know until tomorrow," she said, trying to stay resolved, and failing miserably. "But if you are sure of your decision, I suppose you can tell me now."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to think I'm making the decision lightly, I'm just extremely excited and barely slept last night because I was thinking about all of this."

"I completely understand," Minerva laughed, if only she knew how well. "So what is your decision Miss. Granger?"

"If you are still willing, I would very much like to delve further into the study of Transfiguration. I am excited for the challenge, and admittedly excited to study further with you. You are the best in your field, and I can't let the opportunity slip past me."

Minerva cheered inside her mind, but outside she simply asked, "Are you sure Hermione? I don't want to sway you with one exceptional article, and my impressive tea-serving skills. It will be extremely difficult work, and not all of it will be as exciting as that article." Hermione grinned.

"I'm looking forward to it more than I can say." Minerva smiled broadly and shook Hermione's hand.

"Then I believe we should meet again soon to decide upon your course of study, and schedule. For today though, I would like to discuss this article just a smidge more before dinner—if you're willing."

Hermione grinned, "I was hoping you would say that!"

The two talked well into the night, eventually making their way to the kitchens for a short bite to eat. It was nearly 11 before Hermione began her trek back to her rooms. "Oh, Hermione!" Minerva called down the hall, causing the young woman to jump. "I completely forgot you'll need a note. Argus will have a fit if he catches you out this late, and I don't want to deal with him in the morning."

Hermione simply laughed, "Minerva you've known me since my first day here. When have I ever needed a pass to be out after curfew?" Minerva simply stared shocked as the woman walked away, and found herself chuckling. She couldn't imagine that any other student would ever dare make such a joke.

This was certainly going to be an interesting year.

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**A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope that the conversation wasn't too long winded for you, I was just desperately in need of some H/M mind explosion! Let me know what you think, and please keep reading.**

**A special thanks to MegaNerdAlert and ForeverCharmed01 for their kind reviews. I hope that I continue to live up to your expectations!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm updating quickly today, because I felt like it, and MegaNerdAlert inspired me. Please, please, please review. The more you review, the harder it is for me to hold back my updates... and the next chapter should be a big one! Thanks for reading!**

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_Hermione,_

_If you have the time, I would like to meet with you again before the weekend is out. It would be best if we could have your schedule sorted out before the coming week, as to start as soon as possible. It is already nearly Halloween, so time is of the essence._

_I would welcome a discussion after classes let out tonight, or I could meet with you over the weekend. I will be chaperoning the Hogsmeade trip, so I will be bound to the village, but I'm sure we could meet somewhere during that time if it's more convenient for you._

_I await your reply.  
Kindly,  
Minerva_

Hermione smiled excitedly as she read the brief note. She was about to reply when a rain-drenched Hedwig landed on her the table in front of her. "Oh, Hedwig. You're a mess, dear," she said as she dried the poor owl and fed her some toast. "Harry never should have sent you out in this." Hedwig seemed to agree as she nipped affectionately at Hermione's fingers. Hermione opened the letter from Harry, and smiled.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Depending on your response, I will write you a longer letter tomorrow, but for now I'll be brief._

_Rumour has it; this weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend! (You were supposed to tell me when those occur!) I was hoping we could meet up for a chat at some point. I miss my best friend, and have loads to tell you. _

_I also have a late birthday present for you, and I think you'll want it. Write me back with a time and place!_

Love,  
Harry

Hermione smiled, she could meet with Minerva this evening, and Harry the following day. She missed her best friend dearly, and was glad that he had tracked her down. She quickly sent off her replies to their respective writers, and made her way to class.

That evening she knocked on Minerva's door, as she had been instructed. "Come in, come in!" Minerva shouted, as Hermione climbed through the portrait. Minerva sat with her back to Hermione, sealing a letter as she walked in. Turning around, she greeted her warmly. "Hermione, welcome. Thank you for accommodating me again. I assure you in the future I will be the picture of professionalism, and we can meet in my office. Unfortunately a couple of first years got into a tiff and managed to reduce my desk to cinders. While I was able to fix most of it without too much hassle, I did end up looking rather a fright. Covered in ash from head to toe—not my best look, I assure you."

Hermione laughed, "I don't mind, Minerva. We can meet wherever you're comfortable. If I'm in your office I can't gaze ardently at your book collection."

Minerva smiled, "That is true," pulling out a piece of paper she focused on the task at hand. "Now, we should really discuss your schedule. First of all, I was thinking that you could use your 2 pm free period on Mondays and Fridays to study independently, meet with me for instruction and discussion on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and you could assist me in my Monday morning class—first year Ravenclaws and Slytherins. I don't want to overwhelm you, but I do think that would be the best schedule, if you aren't otherwise occupied."

"That sounds perfect," Hermione affirmed. "I was actually thinking of a similar schedule, though I didn't anticipate the class. How will you have me assisting?"

"To start, you will primarily observe, and help me with grading and monitoring their in class work. Depending on how you cope, you will probably end up occasionally being allowed to teach a class yourself."

"Really?!" Hermione exclaimed, "I admit, I didn't expect that at all! That sounds wonderful."

"Perfect." Minerva waved her wand, and the schedule was added to Hermione's timetable, which Minerva handed her. "Next, we need to decide what you will be studying. This will be a three part endeavor. First, teaching, which you understand. Second, some manner of research. To begin with this may be fairly open ended; it may be wise to become better acquainted with the research currently taking place. After that I will expect you to begin conducting your own research, culminating in a larger essay. Your theories do not have to prove correct, Hermione, they just have to prove well thought out and researched. Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely. So I can research whatever I want?" she asked disbelievingly.

"I will need to approve it first, mostly to save you time in case you're researching something which has already been done, or doesn't make sense. I doubt either will be a problem for you, so my approval shouldn't be a concern."

"Wonderful!" Hermione said, causing Minerva to smile again. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Minerva coughed slightly, forcing herself back into business mode, "Finally, you will be required to further your practical knowledge. I expect you to choose an advanced spell, or collection of spell work which you have not previously attempted. You will research this spell work thoroughly, and you will then attempt to successfully administer it yourself. The only restrictions on this is that you may not use spell work on any other students, volunteers or otherwise." Hermione raised an eyebrow at this, "I don't expect that to be an issue, but I have to say it—just in case."

"That all makes sense to me, and I'm excited to start."

"Now that we have all of that settled. Do you have any ideas?" Hermione smirked, "I thought you might. You don't have to share, I was just curious."

"Well—as far as the practical magic goes, there was one that I wanted to try." Minerva tried keeping a straight face; there wasn't a doubt in her mind where this was going. "I would very much like to attempt to become an Animagus."

"I'm not surprised, actually I'm more surprised that you've waited this long," Hermione blushed a deep red. "I considered it—sixth year, when I knew we were going to have to go on the run soon."

Minerva leaned forward quickly, "Did you really?" she asked.

Hermione nodded, "But once I had done even a bare minimum of research, I decided it wasn't worth the risk. Not without supervision. After my incident second year, I had no urge to be stuck in a partial animal form, and some of the side effects are terrible. I couldn't risk injuring myself and not being able to help Harry."

"A wise decision, Hermione," Minerva said, "I never did understand how James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter managed it."

"I thought the same thing, but then I thought about Harry and I knew the answer," Hermione said, eyes grinning at her. "Harry and Ron have tried to do many dangerous things, but I'm always the one who researches and tells them when the risk is worth it, and when it's not. They rely so heavily on me to be the voice of reason, that on their own, they're fearless. I think that is how the marauders were with Remus, Professor Lupin I mean. Except they never told him what they were planning—so he couldn't be the voice of reason. They just jumped in, and their lack of fear actually gave them a bit of luck."

Minerva nodded, "That actually makes a good deal of sense."

"I've spent a long time being the voice of reason," Hermione shrugged. "Also, Peter Pettigrew did not successfully become an Animagus."

Hermione was shocked when Minerva snickered, she would never have expected to see such a thing from the stern professor. "Now that, I do know," she admitted. "Many years ago, during the first war I had the misfortune of having a drunk Pettigrew stumble into me on his way to the bathroom."

"Oh?"

"He was stark naked," Minerva said with distaste. Hermione cringed violently. "It's true; the man had a tail even when he was not transformed."

Hermione shivered, "I definitely did not need to have that image in my mind."

"I thought you knew?" Minerva asked.

"I knew that his human form, and his rat form, were both missing a toe—something that should have been compensated for throught the transformation, you don't have whiskers, yet you grown them when you transform. The same could be said of the toe. I also knew that his teeth had elongated significantly, as well as his nose—all of that indicates that you was terrible at transforming back into a human." She explained. "I did not know about him naked…. Ew."

Minerva laughed, "Sorry, dear girl. I never would have forced such an image upon you if I had realized." Looking at the clock, Minerva swore. "I really do need to make an appearance at dinner this evening, I wasn't there last night. Some headmistress I am."

"I should go as well; I have to finish an essay before tomorrow. I'm meeting with Harry in Hogsmeade, and I don't want to lose out on the revising time."

"Enjoy your visit with Mr. Potter, and I will see you at 8:30 sharp on Monday."

"Thanks again, Minerva. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hermione."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Another quick update, because it's just killing me waiting to post this chapter. As always, I have no claim to the universe portrayed, only to the situations which I've currently placed the characters in. Enjoy!**

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Hermione sang softly to herself as she traveled the well-worn path to Hogsmeade, it was early and no one was around to hear her. She had woke excited and decided to make an early start, run some errands, and then meet with Harry at 10, as planned. Right now, it was only just hitting 8, and the shops were in the process of opening.

The grass was still flecked with cold morning dew, and the birds were just starting to sing. It was a perfect morning. Hermione wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, protecting her from the cold and sang loudly. She felt happy for the first time in months, for the first time since—no. It was not a day for nasty reminiscing. Today was a good day.

She made her way to the bookstore first, allowing herself the pleasure of purchasing several new books and a Faux-Phoenix feather quill. Ginny's birthday was coming up, and she knew that the younger girl would love the outrageousness of the quill. She picked up extra parchment and some spare potions supplies. She even gave in to her Sugar Quill addiction, purchasing several of those.

Making her way to the Three Broomsticks she began to read while she waited for Harry to arrive. As she read she could hear the pub's crowd growing, but she steadily ignored it until she heard, "Mione!" from the door. Looking up quickly she grinned at her best friend, giving him a hug.

"Harry, you made it!" She exclaimed. "I've missed you so much; I can't believe you're actually here!"

"What, you doubted me?" he joked.

"Oh stop it!" she laughed, taking the chance to look over her best friend. She couldn't deny, Auror training had done good things for him; it was no wonder that Luna Lovegood was interested. She may have been crazy, but she wasn't blind. He had grown another 3 inches, and finally lost the gangly look which had plagued him throughout his time at Hogwarts. Now he was tall, well built, and emanating confidence from every pore. She smiled at him, "You look amazing Harry, the academy is treating you well."

He blushed, "Thanks, Mione," he muttered.

Hermione laughed, "Now tell me about your life, Harry, how are you?"

He smiled dreamily for a moment, "I'm good. I'm actually really good," he blushed. "Auror training is brilliant, and they like me a lot more now that I've started listening to you," he said joking.

She chuckled, "Me? You never listen to me!"

"I did this time! I stopped doing my—what did you call it? 'Saving People Thing', and started working with my group… shockingly enough, our exercises started improving." Hermione laughed out loud.

"What a shock!"

"I'm really, really, happy there, Mione," he grinned, then a blush started to spread across his face. "And…"

"And?" she prompted.

"I've been seeing Luna—regularly," Hermione squealed uncharacteristically. "It's going really well, I swear Hermione, you would never believe the difference it makes in my life to have someone there for me like that. I can't even explain it."

"I'm so_ so_ happy for you, Harry. You deserve that. I always thought you two would be weirdly good together, I'm glad you finally saw it. And I'm glad she stopped chasing, Ron."

"Me too. Actually, I was kind of hoping we could talk about that…" Harry said, trailing off at the end.

"Harry, please, not today. I just—I just can't today."

"Hermione, I'm not asking you to marry him. I just—he's your friend. At least talk to him. He's been a miserable mope for months now."

"Harry, I will, I promise. Soon," she swore. "It's just a lot more complicated than you think. I do miss him though. I miss the three of us here together, how it used to be."

Harry grinned again, though this time slightly more nervously, "Well actually, this is just about perfect time for your late birthday present!"

"Harry," she warned dangerously, but it was too late. Suddenly without warning there were strong arms around Hermione's waist and her feet were in the hair.

"Hermes!" he shouted as she cried out in shock and terror.

"Ro-Ronald, ple-please put me down. Please," she begged, and he listened, as soon as her feet hit the ground his arms were around her.

"I missed you so much Hermes, I'm so glad to see you." He whispered kissing the side of her neck briefly, not noticing her shuddering breath as he pulled her closer.

She took a quick step away from the massive redhead, but he quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her affectionately towards him. "I mi-missed you too Ron," she said truthfully. "Could—could you please just give me a bit of space though?" She stepped away slightly to emphasize the point.

He sighed heavily, "Still this Herm? I'm your best friend, why can't I be affectionate?"

"Please don't call me that," she begged rubbing her eyes wearily. "And I don't mind affection, but you know, _you know_ I don't like being touched very much. Please Ron, that's all I ask."

He muttered under his breath, annoyed, "Great. I'm just going to grab a firewhiskey, I'll be back." As he walked away, shoulders hunched in defeat, Harry looked guiltily at her.

"You had no right," she croaked. "I asked you, I _begged_ you not to do this."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't think you would be this upset!"

"You didn't think at all, Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, tears threatening to spill. "You're supposed to be my best friend. Try acting like it."

"Mione—"

"I'm going back to the castle now, Harry. I love you, keep writing me, and I'll see you soon. I just—I just need some space," she finished, walking away from her best friend, unaware of the eyes following her unsteady movements out the door.

* * *

Hermione stumbled into the bright light, and what had once been a welcoming fall breeze, knocked her back a few steps. She walked quickly towards Hogwarts, determined to reach the grounds before she slowed down. As she ran through the main gates, she spotted her favorite tree.

It was perfectly shaped to fit her small body and allow her to comfortably sit and read, or simply watch the world around her. She found it during her first year at Hogwarts, before she had met her boys. During that time she spent hours reading her text books under this tree, desperate just to fit in, crying because she didn't.

Now the tears were falling again as she found sanctuary under the branches. She cried angrily for the part of her personality which had been torn away from her, and the relationship she knew she could never have. She cried for the ruining of a friendship, and she cried for the ruining of her soul. She just cried, all-consuming sobs which raked her entire body and turned her stomach, tears which burned tracks down her cheeks. _Why couldn't Harry and Ron just listen to her?_

"Hermione?" A voice called quietly from beyond the branches, causing her to violently jump, flattening herself against the tree. Her entire body seemed to shake of its own accord and painful images fluttered from her subconscious. Shaking her head she tried desperately to focus on the voice, "Hermione, dear, it's just me."

Hermione did recognize the voice, and she quickly whipped her tears away, trying to act as if she hadn't been found crying under a tree like a first year. "Minerva. Good Morning, how-how-how are you?" she asked, her voice cracking.

Minerva stepped closer to the obviously damaged girl, "Hermione, are—are you alright?" she asked carefully. She didn't want to frighten her away.

"I'm fine," she tried to say, tried being the imperative word. In reality she said, "I'm—" and then burst into tears. She crumpled to the ground, her body overcome completely; Minerva crouched near her gently touching her shoulder.

At the touch Hermione shrunk into herself all the more, crushing herself ever closer to the tree. "Please," she whispered.

"Okay—it's alright, Hermione. I won't touch you again, I promise." Hermione nodded slightly. "Hermione, do you—do you want to talk to me, tell me what happened? Are you alright?"

Hermione's tears were uncontrollable at this point, it was as if a tidal wave had ripped through the girl, and she couldn't control herself as the words spilled out. "I—I tried to tell Harry. God, I tried so hard to explain it, but he just doesn't understand why I can't bear to be in the same room with him…with Ron, I mean," she cringed at the name, and tugged a hand through her uncontrollable hair. "And I tried to explain to Ron, so many times. I tried to tell him not to touch me—but he doesn't listen, and it's my fault. I was the one who started the hugs, the arm hooking, the touching—so much touching. We were always so-so tactile."

Minerva just nodded, she had a feeling Hermione needed to tell her story, but in her own time.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, taking a deep calming breath. "You've heard about how Harry, Ron, and I were captured and taken to Malfoy manor, right?"

"Yes, though never the details," Minerva replied quietly, sitting down on the ground next to her trembling friend.

"No one knows the details. No one but me, and Draco Malfoy," she said the name like poison on her lips. "All of the rest died in the final battle."

Minerva nodded again, trying to show, in some small way that she was paying attention.

"Bellatrix tortured me, most people know that much. She crucio'd me for several hours," she said numbly. "I've been told it's some sort of record—keeping one's sanity that long. When she grew frustrated with that, she cut me—branded me with my own personal derogatory term," Hermione lifted her jacket sleeve slightly, and Minerva could see the jagged cursed letters on Hermione's skin. _Mudblood_.

"Oh Hermione," Minerva spoke before she could stop herself.

"That—that is what people know about, that is what was reported to the ministry—what the history books will report. But things didn't end quite so cleanly as that," she said continuing. "After marking me she, Bellatrix, grew so angry. _So_ angry. So she gave me to them. Four of them."

Minerva watched Hermione's trembling form, horrified as she realized exactly what Hermione meant by _gave me to them_. "Hermione you were—they?"

"They raped me," she said, her voice clear momentarily before breaking off.

Minerva didn't know what to say. She very rarely cried, and yet watching this strong woman, trembling woman, she could barely keep her composure. She desperately clutched her hands to her sides to stop from reaching out to the shattered woman in front of her. She knew that would do only damage, but it didn't stop the urge. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. God, I'm so sorry." She whispered.

"Do-Do you remember Dolohov, he cursed me in fifth year, at the Department of Mysteries?" she whispered, and Minerva nodded. "Did he go to school here?"

"Yes," Minerva whispered.

"Did—did you know he is a metamorphmagus—like Tonks?" she asked, her voice breaking as she desperately tried to finish her story.

Suddenly the pieces all clicked into place, "No, Hermione. I swear I didn't know." Hermione nodded.

"He was," she said numbly. "He—he hurt me, and then-then he became Ron. Apparent Draco had mentioned our relationship at some point, unwittingly I'm sure—even he wasn't quite that cruel to me. He—his father, made him watch, and I could see him, he was horrified," She said, distracted. "But they all knew about Ron, so he became Ron. I tried not to look, but they sent a wide-eyes jinx my way, and I didn't have a choice." Hermione closed her eyes, lost in her darkest memories.

"He was the worst of all of it," she whispered. "He didn't just hurt me, he destroyed me."

"Hermione," Minerva whispered again, cursing her inability to say anything other than that. Suddenly Hermione was whipping away tears, trying to regain her composure.

"Ever since that day, I can barely look at Ron. I made it through the final battle, and we killed Voldemort, but after that, I just couldn't. I could barely talk to him—couldn't see him. He was my best friend, and my boyfriend and I absolutely broke his heart," she clutched her arms tightly against her chest, "As the months have gone by, Harry just keeps pushing. I understand why, we're his best friends, and they don't know—they can't ever know. But I just need more time."

"Hermione," Minerva said finally, determined to continue. "You've never told anyone this; you've never told _them_ this?"

Suddenly Hermione was crying again, "You're the first," she sobbed, suddenly throwing herself into arms that Minerva didn't remember opening. "I couldn't tell them, Minerva. Just thinking I was being crucio'd nearly destroyed them, they can't ever know. Especially Ron—he-he doesn't deserve that."

"It's all going to be alright," Minerva hummed, rubbing the girls back softly. "You're safe now, and it's going to be alright." All the while, Hermione just continued to cry.

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**A/N: Please don't beat me up! It's a meaty update for you, if nothing else! How will this breakdown affect things, and what will happen with our Golden Trio? Another chapter coming in a few days! Please review, your thoughts are just lovely!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you all so much for all the support so far. Each review gives me so much hope. Please keep it up, and if you have suggestions please don't hesitate to share them! Mild timeline change: In the first chapter I said that there were already 23 chapters written, and more to come. I've started combining chapters to give more meat to the ones I post, this chapter used to be three! So I imagine this story will finish at around 18 to 20 chapters, but we'll see what happens. Enjoy!**

**As usual, I don't own the world of HP, I just love to play in it.**

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Sunday morning Minerva woke up with an aching head, and a body that simply did _not _want to wake up. For once, she was feeling distinctly her age. If she could have stayed in bed all day, she would have. She stared at her ceiling for a while, trying to rid her mind of the painful images which had continually haunted her throughout the night. Her Hermione, crushed and sobbing into her robes. It had been nearly dinner by the time Minerva had calmed the girl enough to bring her back to the castle, and just as they had approached the stairwell Hermione had simply collapsed unconscious—overwhelmed by her stress.

Minerva had levitated her straight to the Hospital Wing, where Poppy gave the girl a strong dose of Dreamless sleep. She seemed to think that would help, and Minerva couldn't argue, Hermione had been through so much in the last several years. She deserved a bit of peace, however short lived.

Minerva sighed heavily, covering her eyes for a moment. Hermione Granger. Powerful, beautiful, intelligent, passionate—all of these words and more had been used to describe her. And someone had nearly destroyed that. A hot fury spread through Minerva's core. She knew that the Death Eaters were cruel. She knew that they fought dirty, but somewhere in Minerva she was still that optimistic professor, the one that believed none of her students could be _completely _evil. Not most of them at least. She had taught nearly all of them, and at that time they hadn't been. Misguided, perhaps, but not truly evil.

Rape—she could never have imagined any student of hers committing such an act. _But they had_, she reminded herself. And they had done it to her Hermione. Inwardly she scolder herself, _she is not your Hermione Granger. She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself_.

Minerva shook her head, she couldn't keep thinking like this. That was not a luxury which the Headmistress could afford herself. She forced herself out of bed, and into her robes.

As she sat down in the Great Hall, trying to connect with her surroundings, she was surprised to find an owl swooping towards her, dropping a letter on her lap. _Curious._ Usually when people corresponded with her the owls delivered them straight to her Office.

Opening the letter, she found it to be from Hermione.

_Dear Minerva,_

_I want to formally apologize for my behavior yesterday; it was weak, and terribly inappropriate. I'm sorry to have caused such an upheaval to your Saturday. I honestly don't know what came over me._

_Please know that such a disturbance will not occur again, nor will it get in the way of my studies. I will be being released from the Hospital wing at ten o'clock this morning, and will be in perfect health to begin working with your class tomorrow morning, as planned. (Assuming you are still willing.)_

_Finally, while I know I have no right to ask anything more of you, I respectfully request that you keep the information shared yesterday to yourself. It is not the sort of rumors I am willing to abide currently, and as you know, there is always someone listening. _

_I hope that we can resume our friendship eventually, and I thank you for the support which you offered me yesterday, however undeserved it was._

_Gratefully,  
Hermione_

Minerva violently threw the letter onto the table, causing alarm to several of the professors nearby. "Nothing," she muttered, "Just a personal matter." She stood quickly, making her way to her office. She couldn't believe that, Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, could be so incredibly stupid when it came to herself.

Minerva groaned allowed, causing several students to stop in their tracks, mouths agape. How could she possibly think herself such a burden? Minerva McGonagall was a lot of things, but susceptible to pitiful displays she was not. They simply infuriated her. What kind of Gryffindor was Hermione being!?

As she entered her office she quickly took her quill and parchment in hand.

"_Hermione," _She began.

_For a bright witch, you can be exceptionally foolish at times. You have done nothing which merits apology to me, nor anyone else. Please refrain from such ludicrous thought patterns in the future._

_Not only am I still willing to work with you, but you are required to meet with me at this point. Refusal to do so would result in a failing mark. This is your education, Hermione, and as much as I enjoy your company, at this point in time I am still your Professor. You will be expected in my classroom at precisely 8:30 Monday morning. Do not dawdle._

_Lastly, please know that anything which we discuss is strictly confidential on my end. I will never disclose any personal information about you, without your express consent. This is the nature of the Mentor/Student relationship, and this is the nature of friendship. Please do not insult my loyalty by suggesting that I am of the same species as your year's Miss. Brown. I didn't gossip even when I was a school girl, and I am certainly beyond that now._

_If, at any time, you require my assistance or company, please feel free to contact me. You know where to locate me, and I am available._

_Kindly yours,  
Minerva_

Minerva's hands shook as she finished the reprimanding letter, and she sighed heavily. She hoped that she wasn't _too _stern with the woman. But she couldn't abide the direction which Hermione was headed; she wouldn't let her destroy herself like that.

Still—she didn't want to frighten her away. Minerva not only worried for her student, but had grown quite fond of her as well. Picking up her quill, she dipped it in ink once more, and jotted down a brief post script.

_PS: Please do not mistake my frustration for any lack of feeling, or empathy. True friendship is only possible through honest communication. You may wish to consider that in regards to your own friendships as well…. Take care._

Sending the owl off, she tried once again to focus on the tasks for her day ahead. Fastening her cloak, and heading to Hogsmeade again, she simply looked forward to sleep.

* * *

Monday morning found Hermione staring into the mirror and sighing. Sometimes she woke up, and looked in the mirror, and all she could think was, _Well, this is as good as it's ever going to get._

She wasn't the type to be overly concerned with her appearance, not usually. She was of average appearance. A bit short, and curvier than many of the other girls, but she was also extremely fit. A year on the run can do that to a person. She had a flat stomach and strong arms, and she could run miles without getting tired. Her hair had finally calmed down, and it was now only _mostly_ uncontrollable, curling halfway down her back.

All of this aside, her eyes were empty, and she didn't know how to wipe that mildly deceased look from her. Today of all days, she wanted to look like herself, to prove to Minerva that she was still strong and capable. Yet here she was, bags under her eyes, dull hair, and slouched shoulders.

_Well, this is as good as it's ever going to get._

* * *

Walking into the classroom, Hermione sat her bag down gently on the chair at her usual seat, and leaned carefully against the desk while she waited for Minerva's arrival.

As the older witch walked into the room, Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling and was thrilled when her smile was returned. "Good Morning, Miss Granger. I see you didn't dawdle," Minerva joked.

"Prompt as always, Professor," she replied. "I settled at my usual desk without even thinking about it, where should I put my things? I just realized that someone else probably sits there—unless you keep this desk reserved just for me?" she said with a smirk.

"Unfortunately, we are not so lucky," Minerva replied. "This class is a full house, you may place you're bag in the corner, and feel free to take a seat behind my desk. I'm going to be moving around a lot today anyways, and for your first day, I plan on having you just observe. It's been some time since you were a first year, and as an exceptional student, I doubt you fully comprehend the level of understanding which most first years possess." Hermione smiled slightly, "What is it?"

"It's just, I forgot you didn't know," she laughed. "I have been tutoring most of your first through fifth year Gryffindors since October of my first year. By second year I was tutoring up to NEWT level."

Minerva couldn't help by gape at the young woman, "You had mastered NEWT level spell work by your second year?" Hermione nodded shyly, "You impress me more and more by the day, Miss Granger. No wonder you were bored."

As class began Hermione watched Minerva closely. As a student, she had always been incredibly focused on the subject itself, on having a full understanding of absolutely everything which happened in the class, but now she had the opportunity to focus on Minerva as a professor, on her teaching methods and ways of interacting with students.

Hermione found herself awed by the ease at which Minerva dealt with her students, their coursework, and the personal tribulations. Twice, Minerva paid special attention to students who were subtly nearing tears of frustration—Hermione hadn't noticed either of the students' difficulty. She talked clearly, and held the students attention. While the Slytherins had difficulty mastering the theory of the spells, the Ravenclaws found themselves aggravated when their wandwork was unsuccessful, yet Minerva made her way through the class carefully correcting wand movements, and explaining the complicated theories.

By the end of class all but one student had mastered the spell, and every student appeared to grasp the technicalities which lay behind it. Hermione had to refrain from applauding the witch, "I always thought I was good when tutoring the students—but that, I can't do that. You're more than a witch, you're a miracle worker!" Hermione exclaimed, and Minerva felt her face heating up ever so slightly.

"I'm not a miracle worker, I'm just extremely experienced. But thank you, I appreciate the compliment nonetheless," Minerva said. "Next class they are going to be working on transfiguring things of significantly different sizes, paperclips to teapots, end tables into toothpicks, etcetera. They've been having a particularly hard time of that this semester. I keep being left with pincushions the size of hedgehogs, and hedgehogs the size of pincushions—especially disturbing after reading that article. I will have you working with the Ravenclaws, as I work with the Slytherins. Since it will be almost all practical work, the help will be appreciated."

Hermione nodded, "I'm sure I can handle that."

"I don't doubt it for a moment," Minerva replied, "Now, if I'm not incorrect, you are about to be late for Professor Lupin's class. I'm sorry for holding you up. He shouldn't cause you any trouble, I know you're friends, but if he does require a pass, simply stop by my office later."

"Thank you, Minerva, have a lovely afternoon," Hermione breathed, making her way quickly from the class.

* * *

The following afternoon, Hermione knocked on her professor's office door, and was surprised when she received no answer. Just as she was about to knock again she saw Minerva's patronus bounding towards the door. Minerva's voice came quickly, "I'm so sorry I didn't inform you sooner, Miss Granger. My office has undergone an…inconvenient accident and we won't be able to meet there. Please join me in my quarters."

When Hermione stepped through the portrait hole she was surprised to find an exceptionally frazzled Professor McGonagall. Her robes were singed, and her usually tightly wound hair was loose and falling down past her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I should have sent you a message immediately, everything has just been happening very fast." Hermione just stared at her, shocked, "Hermione? Are you alright?" she asked wearily, seemingly snapping Hermione out of her shock.

"Yes, of course Minerva. I'm sorry I was just surprised when I saw you."

Minerva nodded, "I completely understand, I've yet to look in the mirror, but I'm sure I'm in a right state by now."

Hermione blushed deeply, "I suppose you do, I'm glad you're alright. I was actually most stunned by your hair, I've never seen it down before," she explained. "You—it's very pretty. I'm jealous," she smiled.

"Thank you," Minerva replied quietly.

Hermione coughed a moment later, "Anyways, what happened to you?"

Minerva rolled her eyes, groaning slightly, "One of my fifth years, Jonathan, found a spell and he didn't know what it did. The idiot boy decided, in a fit of rage at someone he was arguing with, that it would be a good idea to cast the spell in my classroom."

Hermione blanched. The last time something like that had happened, Harry had cast Sectumsempra, and Malfoy nearly died. "What was the spell?" she asked.

Minerva sat on her couch warily, "Fiendfyre."

Hermione couldn't hold in a gasp, "Minerva, are you alright!" she exclaimed, appearing in front of her instantly and taking her hand and appraising the woman for injuries. Seemingly satisfied she asked, "Are the students all alright?"

Minerva nodded tiredly, "I don't even know how the boy managed it, sheer luck I imagine. Luckily, everyone was fine, I got them all out of the room, but it destroyed most of my classroom, and had spread into my office, before I was able to evacuate all of the students from the classroom, and put the fire out. I lost dozens of books, and weeks' worth of papers."

Hermione nodded sympathetically, "I'm just glad you're alright," she said, gently brushing Minerva's hair back over her shoulder, causing the woman to smile tiredly.

Minerva sighed, "Alas, life goes on, but you didn't come to discuss my woes. You had your first independent study period yesterday afternoon, what have you started?"

Hermione looked at her warily for a moment, before deciding to answer. "I sent out subscriptions to Transfiguration Today, Training in Trans, and Transfiguration Monthly, and if I may, those titles are absolutely uninspired," she explained. "I also reserved twenty five books from the library regarding recent discoveries and theories in Transfiguration, and Animagi transformations."

Minerva nodded, pleased. "You've made a good start," she yawned. "I didn't expect you to have made any shocking discoveries by today, nor by our next meeting. I imagine the next few weeks will involve a lot of time reading for you."

Hermione nodded, glancing worriedly at the woman. "That makes sense… Minerva? Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?" she offered, unsure as to how to help her Professor.

Minerva sighed heavily, "Hermione, that would be absolutely lovely. I'm sorry I'm so distracted, you deserve far more of my attention."

"Minerva, I think you have every right to be a little off your game this afternoon," Hermione scolded, as she made her way towards the kitchen.

"Haven't you realized by now, Hermione? I'm practically perfect in every way," Hermione snorted.

"Alright Poppins."

"Honestly though, Hermione, I'm your professor. I should be helping you, not the other way around." Hermione shushed her gently.

"Well then, I'm officially a rebellious student," she smirked. "I've just unceremoniously skipped out on our class period, in favor of helping out a good friend of mine. I'm sure I will be reprimanded appropriately as soon as you see me next. But since your irresponsible student has failed to meet with you, how about you spend some time relaxing after a long day with your friend, Hermione?"

Minerva laughed gently as Hermione handed her a cup of steaming tea, "You really are the most clever witch I have ever met, Hermione."

"Thank you Minerva, from you that is quite the complement," she replied. "So what is going to happen to the student?"

Minerva shook her head, "I haven't decided yet, I was so angry earlier, I just sent him back to his rooms. On one hand, he hadn't a clue what he was doing, but on the other—Hermione he could have endangered all of the students here. Not to brag, but if he had done that in most of his other classes, the professors would not have acted so quickly. Professor Snape or Flitwick, perhaps, but other than that—the whole thing could have been out of control. Children could have—could have—they could have perished, Hermione," she said, her voice cracking at the end. She lowered her face into her hands, "This never would have happened with Albus as headmaster."

Hermione tried to contain it, she really did, but suddenly a loud laugh burst from her and she simply couldn't control herself.

Minerva glared at her for a moment, "What on earth is so funny, Miss. Granger?"

"Minerva—just over the last eight years—in my second year, Albus allowed students to continue living in a castle where a giant muggleborn eating monster was terrorizing the students. In my third year a mass murderer was supposedly attempting to kill the students. In first year a precious stone—known to be of interest to Voldemort, was hiding in an abandoned corridor… as well as a vicious three-headed dog who could be freed with a simple _Alohomora_. In my fourth year there were, at one point, dragons living in the forest. And in sixth year the castle was infiltrated by death eaters, something which he _knew _was on the brink of occurring." Minerva stared disbelievingly at Hermione, "Minerva, he was a wonderful man and a brilliant leader—but he was bollocks at protecting the students of this school!"

For a moment, Hermione didn't know if she had crossed a line, Minerva just stared at her, not saying a word. Then, suddenly, she was laughing. She was laughing, and giving Hermione a hug. "Thank you so much, Hermione," she laughed. "Not only did you make me laugh, but you just pointed out something which no one has had the nerve to say to me, and frankly, I feel quite a bit better."

"Minerva, I honestly believe that you are the best thing that has ever happened to this school," Hermione said, blushing slightly.

"Hermione," Minerva said, squeezing her hand for a brief moment, "I'm starting to wonder if you are—or will be." Hermione chuckled to herself, thinking the woman was joking, but when she looked up, Minerva was looking directly into her eyes. "Hermione, the rest of our community may think Harry Potter saved the world. They may think Harry Potter protected the sorcerer's stone, solved the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets, formed Dumbledore's Army, and saved Sirius Black from certain death—but I am not the rest of the world. I _know _the truth. You've saved this school, and the wizarding world, dozens of times."

Hermione's blush could have easily rivaled a Weasely at that point, "It wasn't all like that," she muttered.

Minerva laughed slightly, "It is exactly like that, Hermione. Not only that, but I think—should you decide to, you would make a magnificent teacher here. Absolutely amazing."

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Really."

"How did you know I wanted that? Everyone, everyone assumes that I will end up working for the Ministry—doing top secret research or something."

"I knew because you and I are remarkably alike. I knew as soon as you decided to return here to finish your education. You love learning, you love helping others to learn, and you absolutely loath the ministry. You would never trust them enough to work for them." Hermione nodded.

"You pay attention," she said.

"It's my job," Minerva shrugged, and Hermione shook her head.

"Minerva, _this_" she said, gesturing to the two of them, and the papers in front of her, "is not your job. This is you being exceptional. Thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome, Hermione," she whispered, and Hermione found herself staring into the older woman's eyes, wondering when they had started whispering. She looked down again.

"I should probably go—let you rest," she said quietly. "If—if you need anything, just let me know."

Minerva nodded numbly, "Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione stood by the door, just a moment longer than necessary, watching the woman she had always respected so much. Her robes were singed, and rolled up around her elbows, her legs folded in on themselves on her couch. She stared into the fire, her auburn and silver hair glowing ever so slightly, eyes thoughtful.

_She's beautiful_, Hermione thought to herself, banishing the thought as quickly as it came, she turned away and left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I have no claim to the world or characters of the Harry Potter universe, I just love to toy with their emotions.**

* * *

After that afternoon, things changed between the two women. Minerva taught Hermione, she taught beside Hermione, and she debated passionately with Hermione. With each article read Hermione would show up, scheduled meeting or no, looking forward to discussing it with Minerva. They would spend hours debating the ramifications of various types of magic, the theories which were just being discovered, and the laws which were quickly being nullified. As the season passed, the two women were found in each other's company more often than not.

It was the middle of December, as Minerva packed up her supplies after a staff meeting, when Remus Lupin stayed a moment later. "Minerva?" he asked carefully, "I was hoping we could discuss something, privately."

"Of course, Remus. Do you mind accompanying me to my office? I have a meeting there in an hour, and I would like to be there, just in case we run over time." Remus nodded and made his way with Minerva, the two catching up as they traveled.

Once settled in her office, Minerva smiled at Remus, "So how can I help you?" she asked.

Remus looked down at his feet momentarily, and Minerva frowned. She had known this man for nearly twenty years, surely he couldn't still be nervous around her. "Minerva," he began. "I consider us friends—good friends, in fact." Minerva nodded. "And, well, if staff members were discussing something like this, I would want you to tell me."

Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him, "What exactly are they saying, Remus?"

"Minerva—there is talk, regarding the nature of your friendship with Miss. Granger." Minerva slipped, knocking her water goblet to the floor.

"What?" she exclaimed.

"Please, don't be angry with me. I just, I wanted you to know—you may want to consider distancing yourself from her. Remember your professional boundaries…"

"Remus, what exactly am I doing which would cause people to believe that?" He cringed slightly at her tone, and she softened, "Please Remus, I'm not upset with you. Honestly, I'm just surprised."

"Min, you've been spending nearly all of your time with her," he explained. "You miss meals several times a week, and the house elves don't deny the fact that you two often eat late in the kitchens. Everyone has heard her call you by your given name—"

"Remus, I think after all she has done for us she deserves to call me by my given name when we aren't in class!" Remus held up his hands in defense.

"I don't disagree Minerva, I—I actually had the same problem when I first started back here. Hermione and I had spent several years simply being friends, and working together for the order—then suddenly I was supposed to be her superior again. Minerva, you know as well as I do that _no one _is superior to that woman." Minerva heaved a sigh of annoyance, "We ate lunch in my office a couple of times, she helped me grade a couple of papers and suddenly I was the dirty old werewolf screwing the student," he said bitterly.

"Remus!"

"I didn't Min, I never would have. Even if I hadn't been her professor—I'm too old for her, and far too dangerous. I'm simply her friend, and was nothing less than a gentleman, but that didn't stop the rumors."

"Remus, I understand what you're saying, but it's absolutely ridiculous! Hermione is my student, but she is also apprenticing with me. We talk more about academics than anything else. And yes, I consider her a friend, but we have never acted inappropriately," she defended, blushing brightly. "Remus I can't let some silly rumors dictate my life—I won't. Right now, I'm just about the only friend she's got—and she's just about the only friend I've got. I won't hurt her that way."

"Alright," Remus said, nodding as he stood to leave. "I just wanted you to know what was being said. And keep in mind Minerva; it isn't just you who could be damaged by such rumors. Good luck."

Minerva nodded, staring unhappily at her hands as her old student left. She couldn't help but chuckle at that—Remus Lupin, 34 years old, and she still viewed him as her "old student". Yet after only a couple months of drinking tea, Hermione was her friend. _Her best friend._

She sighed heavily as a knock sounded on her door; she looked up and couldn't stop the smile from filling her face when she saw the familiar curls pouring out as Hermione removed her hat. "Good Evening, Minerva!" she beamed, shaking snow off of her hair. "I had to pick up a book from Hogsmeade, and it began to snow—it's simply beautiful!"

Minerva laughed, "You know you probably shouldn't tell me when you sneak off the grounds, Hermione."

Hermione just shrugged, raising an eyebrow in challenge, "Would you like me to serve detention with you, Professor? Stay late after class, every day this week?"

Again, Minerva found herself laughing. "You're going to be the death of me."

Hermione smiled, and tilted her head to the side slightly, thinking, "You laugh more now, Minerva."

She nodded, "I suppose I do."

"It suits you—but don't worry, I'll keep it to myself."

"Always appreciated," Minerva smiled. "Now as you know, winter holidays are coming up. I think that after we return from break, we should begin working on the practical end of your Animagus experiment."

"You really think I'm ready, Minerva?" She asked, unsure, "I mean, I've only really been researching in the last several months, I don't want to mess up."

"Hermione, honestly, I would be shocked if you didn't succeed on your first try—which is nearly unheard of, for the record. You have a more advanced knowledge of the art than most masters do; I have the utmost confidence in you."

Hermione beamed, "If you really think so, I'm excited."

"Fantastic," Minerva proclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Now, you picked up those books I suggested for your theoretical research correct?"

Hermione nodded, "After I left last night."

"Good, I imagine you will be able to get quite far in your research over break then. I really am excited to see what you find, no one has ever really considered the scientific effect which transfiguration has on mirrors and other reflective surfaces—I could see that going interesting places."

"I hope so," Hermione confessed, "If it doesn't, my essay will be one of the most boring pieces you've ever read."

Minerva couldn't deny the truth, so she just laughed, "I'm hopeful that your research will have positive results in some manner."

Hermione began to put her books away, realizing that until after break, they had very little to discuss regarding her projects, but some part of Minerva just wasn't willing to let her leave yet, "So Hermione—what are you doing for your holiday this year?"

Hermione shrugged noncommittally, looking towards the floor. "I'm going to stay here, so I will probably just do a lot of studying. Get ahead, you know?"

Minerva nodded, slightly surprised, "I guess I thought you would go to the Weasely's with Harry, isn't that where you usually go for the holidays?"

Hermione sighed deeply, pulling her legs up into her chair, "I do," she answered, "But—well, I haven't spoken to Ron since October, and Harry and I have only exchanged a few letters. I wasn't actually invited this year—though I don't think I would have gone anyways. A bit difficult and all."

Minerva and Hermione hadn't discussed that day since their exchanged letters, but Minerva had only assumed that Hermione had somehow made peace with the two boys. "Hermione, I'm sorry," she said empathetically. "I just assumed that you and Harry were in contact again, at the very least."

Hermione shook her head, "Nope. He—well he's decided to be upset with me instead," she said teary eyed. "They think I lead Ron on, and don't understand why I won't go near him now. Harry feels like I'm trying to make him choose between the two of us."

Minerva was furious, "That isn't right at all! Even without all of the information, how could they ever think of you in such a way? You would never!" Hermione just shrugged.

"It's alright Minerva, they don't know, how could they understand? And as I said, I wouldn't have enjoyed Christmas there anyways. Would've been all twitchy. So I'm staying here. I'll sleep late, enjoy a novel and a perhaps a glass of wine. It'll be a good day on my own. And maybe I'll even check out the Christmas ball—it's usually a good enough time."

Minerva nodded, "Well at the very least, I am happy that I will be seeing you for Christmas, Miss. Granger."

Hermione smiled slightly, nodding. "Well I should really get going for the night. I need to return a couple of books to the library before dinner," she said, standing. She looked back over her shoulder, "Minerva, I hope you have a very good holiday."

"You too, Hermione."

As the brunette walked out of her office, Minerva felt herself trembling with unrestrained rage. She heard the shattering of several vials around the room, and she tried to control her emotions. She wasn't some silly student anymore who couldn't control her magic—breathing deeply Minerva forced her emotions to calm.

It didn't take a brilliant person to realize that Hermione was heartbroken. Minerva had suspected that she was considering talking to Harry and Ronald over Christmas—trying to really patch things up. She hadn't said as much, but she had referred to being nervous on several occasions, and lots to discuss. Now the girl had been shunned, shunned when she needed those boys' the most. It wasn't right, and it wasn't Gryffindor.

Minerva's mind began spinning, considering ways in which she could cheer the younger woman up, and just as she pictured Hermione, beautifully smiling up at her, with a Hot Cocoa mug in her hands and her ever twinkling eyes, Minerva's mind stopped spinning, and locked into place.

Remus Lupin was right.

"Bloody Hell," Minerva swore. "I fancy Hermione Granger."

* * *

Remus Lupin jumped slightly, when he heard a persistent knocking at his office door. Officially, as of this afternoon, it was Winter Break. He certainly wasn't expecting anyone to call on him. "Come in," he called out.

He was shocked when he saw a shivering, Hermione Granger in his doorway. "Miss. Granger, what a pleasant surprise," he greeted. "How can I help you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in a very un-Hermione like way. "Cut it out, Remus. We're friends, deal with it."

"What?" He stuttered, shocked by her blunt outburst.

"Look Remus, we've known each other since I was 13, and we've been very good friends for the past several years. I completely understand why you backed off after those rumors started, I'm not angry. Honestly, it was probably the best for you," she said quickly, "But most of the students' have left, and if you could cut the act for just a few minutes, I could really use a friend right now, and frankly, I don't have very many."

Remus gaped at her for a moment as she flopped unceremoniously into the chair across from his desk, "I'm sorry, Mione. I shouldn't have done that."

She shook her head quickly, "Really, it's alright. I meant what I said, I just—I really needed someone to talk to, you know? Someone I could trust? And you seemed like the best choice."

Remus smiled broadly, this was what he loved about Hermione. She was always honest, and rarely held grudges. That combined with a ridiculously high intellect and a wicked sense of humor, made her one of his favorite people. No one would believe that this was the same girl who was always so polite and eloquent in her classes. They just had a different kind of relationship. He would swear that had Hermione been born in a different time, she would have been the first female Marauder "Alright Shorty, what's going on, and why are you talking to me suddenly, instead of Minerva?"

She groaned audibly, closing her eyes. "Remus—have you heard the rumors?"

Remus cringed; he couldn't believe he was having this conversation twice in one day, "Yea, Mione. I've heard them."

"Has she?" she asked, quietly this time. Remus' eyebrows rose slightly, surprised by her vulnerable tone.

"As of today… yes," he said carefully. "I—I told her, Hermione. She's been my friend for a very long time, and I didn't want her to be blindsided." Hermione just nodded carefully.

"Remus, you know those rumors about you and I were bullshit, don't you?" she asked bluntly, staring directly at him.

"Yes, Hermione, I know. We're friends, very good friends. And you are attractive, very attractive." He laughed, "But we were never like that. And I know you never saw me that way either." She nodded again.

"People were so sure that I was going to fall in love with you," she laughed, winking at him. "Dirty old werewolf."

He chuckled quietly, "Hermione, what's this about, really?" he asked seriously, causing her to look up.

It was only then that he realized how incredibly sad she looked, "Remus," she started, pausing almost immediately. She took a deep breath, "I'm in love with her."

He studied her closely for a moment, trying to read her emotions. "Fuck," he swore.

"You're telling me," she grumbled.

"You really are, aren't you?"

"Irrevocably," she replied simply. Remus shook his head disbelievingly.

Hermione was one of his best friends, despite everything that had happened earlier in the Fall, and he had been worried. Remus was known for his keen werewolf senses, but it was more than that. Years of persecution had taught him to be observant, to read people quickly.

He knew that she was bisexual, and had been able to tell that simply from the way she eyed Tonks upon first meeting the fiery woman. He had seen the light hickey which she had unsuccessfully attempted to hide after Ginny had gotten exceptionally drunk at their New Year's party. But through it all, he could tell that her feelings for Ron were deeper than that, if he had to guess, he though she had once planned on marrying him.

When something switched and she stopped being interested in men, he noticed that as well. He suspected something had happened in the war, something she wouldn't talk about.

But he saw how she flinched whenever a man touched her, Harry was the only exception. He saw how she cringed whenever someone flirted with her. She had blossomed while on the run, and had been named one of Witch Weekly's Sexiest Witches Alive in their most recent issue. Those looks had brought many men to their knees—but she was completely petrified whenever they approached her. Watching her at the various, in his opinion, _sick_ celebratory balls, he had understood immediately, and had never once touched her. If he were to speculate, he would guess that was why she had quickly become friends with him at the beginning of the year. She was used to hanging out with boys—men, and he was a completely safe man to spend time with.

He always chuckled at that, of all the men to consider safe.

When he had distanced himself, he had seen how it hurt her, but he knew she was strong. He knew she would make it—that was before Minerva had entered the picture. Remus had seen the result almost immediately.

Hermione has reawakened under the attention of the woman who, for so many years, Hermione had hero worshipped. But Remus also saw how quickly she dropped the idolization, and honestly befriended the woman. Hermione wasn't besotted with the woman, she was best friends with her, and Remus recognized the look which bloomed in Hermione's eyes in November, after the Fiendfyre incident.

Hermione wasn't being dramatic, and she wasn't harboring a school girl crush. Hermione Granger had fallen in love with her Professor.

"Hermione," He groaned, "You cannot be in love with Minerva McGonagall!"

She cringed, "Don't you think I know, Remus? I've been nauseatingly attracted to her for over a month now, and I can't do anything about it. That's why I came to you, I needed to talk to _someone_, and I needed someone in my corner."

Remus ran a hand through his hair, "Hermione, I understand, I really _really_ do, but she is more than twice your age—and your professor!"

Hermione threw a paperclip at him, "Don't be dramatic. She's 44, that is only 25 years older than me… she would only be twice my age if she was 47," she told him dryly.

"Well, well, alert the presses. Everything is A-Okay now," he responded with a smirk.

"Look, Remus. I'm not pursuing her, okay. I know that isn't possible, I'm smart, I get it. I just—I just want to continue being friends with her, and I'm worried that with these rumors spiking, she's going to cut and run," Hermione explained. "Rem, I have one and a half friends right now. Her, and sometimes you. I can't survive losing that."

"She knows doesn't she?" He asked quietly.

"What?"

"She knows what happened, whatever happened that you won't talk about," he suggested.

Hermione twitched slightly, "Yes," she said.

"Well," he said, understanding her discomfort and returning back to the subject at hand. "She isn't going anywhere. When I talked to her—well, I tried to get her to take a bit of distance," he cringed as she glared at him. "I didn't know it was _quite _this serious, and I didn't want either of your reputations damaged. _Unfortunately, _she wouldn't have any of it. She told me that the rumors were preposterous and that she didn't give a damn what any of the gossipy staff members of this castle had to say. You were friends, and she thought that you deserved a few decent friends after the way you had been treated."

"Really?" Hermione asked, "She really said that?"

"Yes, and Mione, if she didn't listen to me, she isn't going to listen to anyone. We're decent friends—the only person she's closer with is you, and Albus. And obviously he isn't about to complain."

Hermione nodded, "I can deal with that then, and thanks Remus. I just—I really needed to let it out."

He smiled at her, "I can definitely understand, better than most, how tiring a secret can be. Come by any time to talk."

"Oh?" she asked, "You're not afraid that I'm going to tarnish your reputation anymore?"

He laughed, "No, everyone knows that Minerva is the dirty old woman who's shagging the students now. I'm off the hook."

Hermione laughed, picking up her bag. "Goodnight, Remus."

"Night, Hermione." He echoed as she closed the door.

* * *

**A/N: No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to make it more than a few days without updating. Sorry to disappoint all of you! ;-)**

**I have a question to pose, which I would greatly appreciate responded to via review or private message. I am currently working on chapter 20 and I'm realizing that some _adult content_ seems to be looming in the future. When I started the story I had no intention of any such thing, and made that clear. What are your opinions on changing that? Would you be upset if there was something mildly lemon-shaped in our future? Would you be upset if there wasn't? As always, I write for me above all, so if I feel it's necessary, I will. But I would love to hear your thoughts.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you all SO much for your input. I really appreciate it. Feel free to continue giving me your ideas, and feedback. We've still got quite a few more chapters to go! This chapter is extremely brief, but I promise to post another chapter later today, or tomorrow. These scenes just couldn't be meshed with the one following. I hope you enjoy, and please continue to read and review!**

* * *

Minerva stood in front of the doorway which she hadn't entered in months. After Albus' death, she had immediately been forced to handle all of his affairs, but as soon as the war ended, she locked his office and didn't look back.

In the future, another headmaster or mistress may sit there, but Minerva wouldn't be the one. Since she locked that door, she hadn't so much as entered the room. She couldn't. Albus had been her best friend since she was a child.

She laughed humorlessly; they themselves had stirred several rumors during her time at Hogwarts. He was far too familiar with a student, and she wasn't nearly respectful enough. But that hadn't stopped their friendship. By her seventh year they were meeting for tea several times a week. He had been her best friend, and she liked to think she was his as well.

Now she was alone, and aside from Hermione, and the occasional chat with Remus, she didn't really have anyone to confide in. That was why she was here now. She felt stupid, and childish. Albus would have told her it was unhealthy—but even if it was only an imprint, she had a feeling he could help her.

She gently spoke the password, a word which had annoyed her heavily over the years, "Lemon Drop," and stepped on to the moving stairs. As she opened the door she couldn't help but be surprised. The office still looked as if he had never left. The house elves had left it without a speck of dust to speak of, and all of his trinkets were still in place.

"Minerva, I was wondering when I would be seeing you," she heard from a corner, and her eyes teared at the voice.

"Hello Albus," she smiled looking towards the portrait on the wall, and taking a seat in her usual armchair by his fire. "I'm sorry it's been so long."

He tutted at her predictably, "It is not healthy to dwell on the deceased, Minerva. I'm glad that you've stayed away, but I am also glad to see you now."

"Albus, I need some guidance—even if it is just from a portrait. I'm so lost," she sighed. "Albus, I think—I've developed _feelings _for a student," she whispered.

Albus' eyes twinkled even as a portrait, "Well it has been some time hasn't it, it's about time you tried again."

Minerva glared at the portrait, "What do you mean, Albus? You can't possibly suggest this is a _good _thing. It's completely inappropriate, immoral, and—well I'm more than double her age!"

Albus laughed, "If the rumors are correct, you aren't quite double. Only if you were 47, my dear. As it is, don't age yourself prematurely."

Minerva scoffed, "This was a terrible idea. Even as a portrait you are as daft as ever."

"Minerva, now just give me a chance and stop blowing up at me," he said sternly. "This _student_ should have graduated last year. She is of age. And she is not primarily your student anymore, is she? She's your closest friend. I see nothing inappropriate about that, whatsoever."

"You wouldn't," Minerva grumbled.

"Minnie…" Albus crooned.

Minerva rolled her eyes, "Do not call me that abysmal name, Albus. I swear, I'll find a way to resurrect you, simply so I can kill you again."

"Minnie," he said smirking, "We were friends, right?"

Minerva's head snapped towards the portrait, "Of course, Albus. The closest of friends."

"Minerva, when we met do you know how old you were?" She rolled her eyes; she knew where this argument was going.

"Eleven, of course," she answered, resigned.

"And when we started becoming close as friends, how old were you?"

"16," she mumbled.

"Which made me?"

"41," she snapped, "But Albus that was _completely _different, we were just friends."

"What is love, if not an extension of the absolute best of friendships?"

"You were supposed to talk me down, you know that don't you?" she growled.

He waved a hand at her, "It's so boring being predictable. Why would I ever succumb to one's expectations?"

* * *

Meanwhile, in The Head's dormitory, Hermione sat still in her chair, staring at the letter in front of her. She had decided, after much deliberation, that she needed her friends back. And the only way she was going to get that, was by being honest with them.

At this point, she had very little to lose.

_Dear Harry,_

_First of all, I want to apologize for my recent behavior. While I'm still not pleased with your choices to ambush me, I understand that they came from heartfelt place, and I don't want to argue with you anymore. _

_Actually, I want to speak with you, and Ron. I believe, as my two best friends, I owe you both an explanation. Would it be possible to meet with you next week? Perhaps the 23__rd__?_

_As you know, I'm staying at the castle for the holidays, and it would really make things easiest for me if you could visit here. I'm sure Minerva would give you permission. _

_Please reply as soon as possible._

_I miss and love you both._

_Hermione_

Hermione sighed, it should be good enough. It's clear and to the point, without being harsh, and it completely forgoes all hostility towards either of them. Hermione nodded stiffly as she left for the owlery.

She could do this.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Alright friends, the longest chapter yet, in exchange for the last one being my shortest yet! Here it is, the confrontation we all knew was coming-and not the happy fluffy one we're all hoping for. I hope you enjoy, and I would be ecstatic if you let me know what you think. Thank for your continued support!**

* * *

It was well after midnight as Hermione stumbled quickly through the abandoned halls of Hogwarts. She knew she should go back to her tower, take a sleeping draught, and just go to bed. But she couldn't, not tonight. Tears fell freely down her face, mingling with her untamed hair.

How had this happened?

"_Harry," Hermione greeted, throwing her arms around her bespeckled friend. "I've missed you."_

_Harry patted her back awkwardly as a gruff voice sounded behind him, "Alright Herms, let's just get this over with. What do you have to say for yourself?"_

"_Ron!" Harry hissed, "Come on, you said you'd give her a chance."_

"_Harry," Hermione squeaked, "Has Ron been drinking?" she asked disbelievingly._

"_Look Hermione, that is none of your business now. If I want a bit of liquid courage—to help me deal with you, no less, I am allowed to do that!" Ron snapped. _

_Hermione nodded, shaking slightly again. This is not how she had wanted to have this conversation._

Hermione knocked on the portrait hole, praying that Minerva would hear her. As the portrait opened she was met with the extremely surprised face of Minerva McGonagall. Minerva was clad in a dressing gown, and her hair was hanging in a loose braid down her back. She looked distinctly drowsy, and Hermione turned away quickly, and began back down the hall she had come by. "Hermione!" Minerva said, startled. "Why aren't you wearing shoes?" was the only thing she could think to say, and Hermione turned back.

"I'm sorry Minerva, I shouldn't have woken you. I apologize. I'll—I'll see you tomorrow," she stuttered quickly, beginning down the hall again.

"Hermione Granger get back her _immediately_," Minerva scolded, pleased when her tone brought the woman back to her door. "Now please come in before you draw too much attention. 3 a.m. visits are not exactly smiled upon in this school."

"I'm sorry Minerva, I just didn't know where to turn," Hermione said, looking at her bare feet.

"What happened, Hermione?" she asked gently, touching the girls shoulder as she led her to their usual couch.

"I told Harry and Ron," she said, barely more than a whisper. Minerva's eyes widened in surprise.

"_Look, Harry—Ron, I know I've been acting odd since the war ended," Hermione began her carefully rehearsed story._

"_You've got that right. You've been a right nasty bint, you have," Ron spoke up, much to the chagrin of Harry._

"_I'm sorry, Mione. Please continue," he said, glaring at his best friend._

_She shook her head, desperately trying to cling to the words she knew she had to say. "At Malfoy manner—there were parts of the story I left out," she said carefully. "Things I didn't tell you."_

"_What do you mean 'things you didn't tell us'? We were there, weren't we?" Ron asked brusquely._

"_Do you mean during the time when you were tortured?" Harry guessed, and Hermione nodded._

"_You two were downstairs, and you couldn't see. You made certain assumptions and—well I didn't honestly have it in me to correct you."_

"_What happened, Hermione? Just tell us," Harry prodded._

_She looked at Harry, focusing on the green eyes she had loved for the last eight years. This was Harry, he would understand, she could talk to him. "Harry, I—I was attacked."_

_Harry shook his head dumbly, "I think we got that much, Hermione," he joked._

"_No, I'm sorry, you don't understand—I was, what I mean to say is…" She groaned in frustration, why was this so hard?_

As Hermione explained the situation to her professor, Minerva's gaze got colder and colder. Ron had been _drunk?_ The nerve of that boy, coming to her school intoxicated! And how could Harry let him?

Hermione was crying openly now, her arms wrapped around her in the same protective way she had months ago, and Minerva couldn't stop herself from reaching out. She gently rubbed the woman's arm and Hermione found herself leaning heavily against her shoulder.

"I thought they would understand," she cried, "I always thought they would understand."

"_I never thought I'd see the day when the great Hermione Granger would be struck dumb. Spit it out already," Ron smirked, as Harry cringed with embarrassment for his friend._

"_Fine, Ronald, I'll spit it out," she snapped, tears forming in her eyes; this wasn't going at all according to plan. "I was raped that day."_

_Both boys openly gaped at her, "You mean you were—like they—you know…" Ron muttered stupidly._

"_I think you know the definition, Ronald," she scathed. "Bellatrix got bored with her torture when I didn't break—so she gave me to some death eaters to play with," Hermione took a deep breath, "Lucius Malfoy, Fenrir Greyback, Yaxley, and Antonin Dolohov."_

_Harry looked awkwardly towards his feet, "So that's, that's what you haven't been telling us, why you've been so off," he said quietly._

"_Yes," she said, "At least at its simplest. But—well there is something else. Dolohov… well he was a metamorphmagus, like Tonks." _

_Harry looked up from his feet quickly, and Hermione couldn't help but smile sadly. Harry wasn't always the quickest, but he always caught on eventually. "He?"_

"_Apparently Draco had at one point let it slip, the _nature _of my and Ron's relationship. He took the form of Ron," she finished weakly, staring the small specks of dirt under her nails, and willing herself not to cry._

Minerva held the small crying girl to her; she had never before seemed so young. She still wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but she could tell things hadn't ended well.

"Harry couldn't even look at me, Minerva," she said, her voice shaking. "Best friends for eight years, we save the fucking world together, and he couldn't even look at me, couldn't even utter a syllable of understanding."

"Oh, Hermione," she whispered, sympathetically. "I'm sure he'll understand soon. You know Harry; he has trouble handling emotions on his best day. I'm sure he'll come through."

Hermione shook her head, "It doesn't matter, he supported Ron—as far as I am concerned, I can't be friends with either of them. Not after that."

Hermione viciously swiped at the tears on her cheeks, as Minerva handed her a tissue, "Hermione, what did he do?" she asked gently.

"At first, he was just hurt—hurt that I had punished him for what someone else did," she explained, "And I can understand that. I can't help the way I feel, but it isn't fair to him. It isn't fair to either of us."

"And then?"

"Then he got angry. He—he accused me of cheating on him."

"He what?!" Minerva shouted, startling Hermione as she leapt to her feet. She picked up her wand and was making for the portrait hole when Hermione grabbed her wrist gently.

"Please, Minerva," she pleaded, squeezing her hand lightly, "Not today," and Minerva's anger simmered away quickly.

"Of course, I'm sorry dear. I just—I lost my temper."

Hermione smiled sadly, "You're a Gryffindor, I would expect nothing less."

Minerva nodded, "Please continue?" she asked.

"Well, he knows that I can do wandless magic," she explained and Minerva felt herself smiling.

"Can you really? I didn't know that." Hermione nodded softly. Glancing at her teacup she waved a hand and had it levitating ever so slightly.

"Only small things. I can levitate objects under 35 kilos or so, I've untied myself a couple of times, and I once stupefied Draco Malfoy—though that was more accidental than anything. I really haven't practiced enough for it to be overly useful yet, I have to have full focus, and be a full strength," she explained. "But because Ron knew that, he is convinced that I could have stopped things if I had wanted to."

"That slimy bastard," Minerva swore.

Hermione chuckled darkly, "I'm having a terrible influence on your vocabulary, Minerva—you used to swear so infrequently."

"In front of you maybe."

Hermione smirked, but continued with her story, strangely calm now. "He therefore thinks that I allowed it to happen—he…he called me a whore, and stormed out."

Minerva could only stare disbelieving at her, Ronald Weasely had never been overly bright, but he always seemed better than this. "And Harry?" she asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

"He looked embarrassed by Ron, and guilty, but he left with him. He didn't defend me, and he didn't stay with me," she said in a monotone voice, "I told them, and they just left me there alone."

As Hermione began to cry again, Minerva felt entirely helpless. How as she supposed to help the woman who meant so much to her? She just held her tightly, whispering consolingly in her ear as she cried. It was all she could do.

* * *

The next morning Minerva woke up with a fierce pain in her neck, a cramp in her shoulder, and a soft weight on her thighs. Refraining from groaning, Minerva looked down to find the head of one Miss. Hermione Granger asleep on her lap.

Minerva wanted to groan again, remembering the situation which had brought them here. Those moronic boys—how could they possibly do such a thing to Hermione? And after all she had done for them. She had spent most of the night over come with tears and unthinkingly asking Minerva what she had done wrong. That question echoed through Minerva's head, and caused her heart to break for the girl.

It was half past six when Hermione had, without warning, fallen asleep as Minerva spoke with her. Minerva didn't remember Hermione lying down, but she did remember the feel of her soft hair as she tried to calm the girl. Squinting towards the clock she found that it was nearly noon now, no wonder Minerva felt so old, she had been sleeping on a couch all night.

Looking down at Hermione, she couldn't bring herself to care. She had only wanted to help the girl, and if Hermione had found even an hour of sleep, Minerva was pleased.

"Hermione," she whispered, brushing several strands of hair away from her face. "Wake up, Hermione. We've nearly slept the day away."

Hermione grumbled slightly in her sleep, and attempted to bury her face further into—what she undoubtedly believed to be, her pillow.

"Hermione," Minerva repeated. "You really should wake up, dear." Minerva inwardly chided herself, when had she started using such endearments? Get a hold of yourself woman!

"Where 'm I?" Hermione mumbled incoherently, slowly sitting up. As she looked around, and realized her situation, she turned bright red. Coughing slightly, she turned to Minerva, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep here," she apologized awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"It's alright, Hermione. I'm just glad you got some sleep," she smiled, and Hermione nodded slightly.

"Well, I should probably—erm, get to lunch," she finished. "Any idea where my shoes are?"

Minerva laughed, "You weren't wearing any."

"Bugger," Hermione swore, just as a knock was heard at Minerva's door.

"Ignore it," Minerva said, "I'll tell them I was ill last night."

"Minerva, I know you are in there—and I assure you, you're going to want to see me," The voice of Remus Lupin cut through the room, and both women cringed.

"He's going to kill me," they said simultaneously, and then laughed.

"He…er, knows we're friends. I'll answer and explain, you should go get dressed," Hermione offered. Minerva looked down at herself, no; she couldn't possibly see anyone like this. Her face warmed realizing Hermione had seen her like this all night.

"That—yes, that seems like the best option," Minerva groaned, Remus was not going to be pleased with her at all, but she resignedly made her way into her bedroom as she heard his knocking persist.

Hermione opened the portrait, and would have laughed at the look on Remus' face if he hadn't been so livid. Stepping into the room he paced back and forth a few times before stopping in front of Hermione, "You know, you're supposed to be the smart one," he snarled. "Opening the private chambers of a professor—barefoot and hair unbrushed, is not smart!"

"Remus it's not like that at all," Hermione began to explain, smiling at him.

"Well of course it isn't, but do you think that matters to the rest of the world?!" He shouted, "Maybe you two don't realize that Minerva could be terminated for this, Hermione!"

Hermione blanched, she hadn't thought it could be that serious, "Just from being friends, Remus?"

He laughed humorlessly, "Just from being friends. Hermione, Filch saw you barefoot and crying at Minerva's door in the middle of the night. It's all over the school. Now _neither _of you have shown up for breakfast, or been seen all morning."

"But—we—we just fell asleep. I was upset." She said quietly.

"Hermione, didn't you understand how much had to be at risk for me to sever our friendship? It wasn't just my reputation, but also my job—and more than that, your education. Do you think there aren't people who would just _love _to claim that the _cleverest witch of her age_ was actually just sleeping with Professors to get good grades? They want to destroy you!"

Hermione sat heavily on the couch. "Remus, I didn't think it was that bad… I had no idea."

He sat down next to her, "I know you didn't, and I know that both of you have a very strong Gryffindor streak. Neither of you like to let them win, but you have to be _careful_ Hermione." She nodded numbly. "Why did you come here last night anyways?"

"I told Harry and Ron about—about what happened," she said, "They didn't take it well."

Remus' eyebrows furrowed. He didn't know for sure what had happened, but he had some pretty good suspicions. "What did they do?"

"Harry didn't do anything—as in he had no reaction at all. Ron called me—he called me a whore," Hermione said with a grimace.

"I plan on turning them both into a fine pair of water goblets as soon as I get the opportunity," said a voice from across the room. "Morality be damned, I like them a hell of a lot less than I like birds."

Both Remus and Hermione looked up, "Lovely of you to join us," Remus said.

"Don't look at me that way Remus Lupin, I'm not in the mood. I did the right thing and you know it. You would have done the same if you had seen her," she lectured, shooting an understanding look towards Hermione. "Besides, I've just sent Winky the house elf away after confirming that Hermione was indeed back in her room by 3:30 am, having been escorted by myself personally. She stayed in bed this morning, and Winky believes that Hermione may be suffering from a head cold. It's a shame, being Christmas Eve and all."

Hermione gaped at Minerva, "What, you didn't think I had _any _control over the goings-on in this school, Miss Granger? I am headmistress. If I want rumors stopped, I stop them," she said smirking slightly. "As for you Mr. Lupin, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from lecturing myself, or Miss. Granger about our activities from this point forward. We are good friends, and I will not allow either of our futures to be put in jeopardy, but I've also spent a long time fighting and am more than ready to relax and be a little selfish. Miss. Granger is my friend, she is going to continue being my friend, and I will not abide moronic rumor mongering. Is that understood?"

Remus nodded quickly, "I'm sorry Minerva, I was just concerned. I shouldn't have underestimated you."

"No, you shouldn't have," she answered, primly. "Now, if you don't mind, I really must get to lunch. Hermione, I would suggest, for discretion's sake, that you use my Floo to get to Gryffindor tower. As much power as I have, I don't know that I could contain it if you left my chambers looking as you currently do," she smiled as Hermione half-heartedly patted down her hair.

"That makes sense, Minerva," Hermione said, "I'll—I'll just go. I'll see you both later."

As she left in a burst of flames, Minerva collapsed on to the couch, finally allowing her exhaustion to show. She hadn't wanted Hermione to know just how much of a toll last night had taken. "Minerva? Are you alright?" Remus asked carefully.

She sighed, "I am, it has just been a long night, Remus. She—god you should have seen her last night. She was a mess, Remus. I wouldn't have usually let her in, not at that time of night, not with the rumors circulating, but she was near collapsing."

Remus nodded, "Ron—he really?"

Minerva audibly growled, "Oh yes. That boy will be hearing from me before long."

Remus shook his head, "I never would have expected any of this to play out the way it has. I always thought they would understand."

Minerva nodded, "I encouraged her to talk with them, I thought it would solve the problems they had been having. So—you know?" she asked carefully. She wasn't interested in betraying Hermione's secrets, but being able to talk to someone was definitely welcome.

"I know—to a certain degree. Educated guesses given her behavior before Malfoy manor, and after. They—they attacked her, correct?" He asked, "And by attacked I mean…"

"Yes," Minerva replied quietly.

"Those boys are fools for not seeing it. Anyone who spent any real time with her could see it."

Minerva nodded, "One of them was a metamorphmagus, Remus. That's why she can't be around Ron anymore."

Remus shook his head, "I thought that may be the case—reactions to Tonks and Ron both. It's just not right, Min, not for her."

"Remus," she began, "I'm in trouble here."

He nodded, "I know. I didn't want to say anything, but I can see it."

"In regards to friendship, she is the most compatible person I've ever met, even—even more so than Albus and I. She really is a great friend, and she is absolutely shattered right now—god, she doesn't even see how much she's been broken. I can't take advantage of that, and I don't want to hurt her more…"

"But?" Remus prodded gently.

"But—I'm falling in love with her. I realized it this morning when I woke up. She—she slept here last night, Remus. She fell asleep with her head in my lap, and I don't know how to handle that."

Remus nodded again, "What if she felt the same?" he asked, carefully.

She shook her head, "It wouldn't—it _couldn't _matter. She doesn't need someone like me right now, not to mention that she doesn't. For one—there is a bit of a sexuality boundary there. I'm female, despite what many rumors say."

Remus laughed, "Am I the only one who pays attention here at all?" he asked. She is not straight, not at all, Minerva. She has been knowingly bisexual since she was at _least _sixteen, and now she is terrified of men, so she leans much closer to women."

"She is?" Minerva asked, "I didn't—I completely missed that. You two are quite close, aren't you?"

Remus nodded as Minerva's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Retract the talons woman, I just told you she isn't interested in men. We're very, very good friends. That's all."

Minerva groaned, "Remus I need to stop this."

"Yesterday, I would have agreed—but today, things are different," Remus told her shrugging, "Things have happened, more than I even realized, and Hermione needs some stability in her life. If you can be that stability, I'm happy for the both of you."

"You're forgetting one very important factor, Remus."

"Hm?"

"Hermione Granger, 'Witch Weekly's Sexiest Woman Alive', is not interested in a 44 year old spinster school teacher."

Remus just laughed. "You're blind, woman," he said. "But I don't plan on being the one to cure your vision. We need to get to lunch. Let's really confuse them by leaving together. Maybe they'll think we had a threesome," he winked.

"Oh do shut up, Remus," she scolded, causing him to laugh all the more.

* * *

Hermione had quickly showered and dressed before making her way down to lunch. She was starved from the evening before. Just as she sat down, and began filling a bowl with pasta a letter was dropped in her lap.

Hermione eyed it curiously; she couldn't imagine who would be writing to her at this point. Ginny, perhaps?

_Hermione,_

_I am writing to inform you of how incredibly disappointed I am with you. Last night, Ron came home and finally told us everything. We had wondered why you hadn't stayed in contact with Ronald, but now we know. You found more interesting people to talk to, didn't you?_

_I had my doubts about you after the rumors during the Tri-Wizard tournament, but Ron assured me there was nothing to them. Well now we know he was wrong. Selling yourself to Death Eaters, Hermione? I thought you could sink no lower. I guess we know how you've managed the grades you had all these years._

_We took you in as a member of our family, and this is how you repay us, I don't know how they handle such things in muggle households, but I assure you, you are no longer welcome around my home or my family. I am disgusted. Kindly stay away from my children, they don't need the influence of a woman of your sort around them. _

_Molly_

Hermione dropped the letter quickly, as if burned. How could Ron do this, how could Harry not explain? How could Molly just take everything Ron said unquestioningly?

Hermione blinked away tears as she pushed her bowl away. Suddenly, the goblets of Gryffindor table were exploding, and the few students present were covering their faces. "Everyone is going to know," she whispered. Ron wasn't known for his subtly, and if it was news about the _Golden Trio_, someone was bound to pick up on it. Everyone was going to find out—and they weren't even going to find out the truth.

Hermione didn't register the shocked faces of her professors and peers as she ran from the room towards the nearest toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach rapidly. She slumped to the floor.

Everyone was going to find out. She was ruined.

Hermione quickly made her way to the Room of Requirement. She needed someplace to think, and some place private to talk to Minerva later—assuming the witch was willing. _I need somewhere to meet with, Minerva. I need someplace to meet with, Minerva._

When Hermione opened the door she blushed and closed it again. She grumbled to herself. Ridiculous room, _that_ had not been her intention. It had been a dark room with candles, a fireplace, a couch, and a _bed_. _I need a place to study, I need a place to study, I need a place to study. _She thought.

Opening the door she found a much more acceptable environment, and quickly sent her patronus to Minerva's quarters.

* * *

Minerva had yet to arrive at the great hall when Hermione's magic had lost control, but she was quickly informed by several of the professors. _What had happened to cause that? It wasn't like Hermione to lose control, especially not in public._

Minerva just nodded, and told her colleagues she would see about the girl going to the Hospital wing, reminding them that some flu-bugs can cause temporary magical jitters. As much as she had wanted to hunt Hermione down and demand answers, she knew that would only spur more rumors.

When Minerva returned to her quarters she was surprised to find a silver otter sitting calmly in her window seat, Hermione's patronus. "Minerva, if possible, I would very much appreciate meeting with you later today. I have something to discuss with you, and would also like to discuss the problem of these rumors. I believe the room of requirement may be an advisable place to meet, if you are willing. I will be there studying most of the day, but should you have a specific time in mind, please send me a patronus back."

Minerva sighed in relief, she had been trying to find a way to see Hermione—they really did need to talk today, but she didn't want to add fire to the rumors which were circulating. She moved quickly out of her chambers.

Knocking on the door, she heard a light, "Come in," before entering.

"Hermione," she sighed, rushing forward. "I heard about the dining hall, are you alright?"

Hermione nodded, "I haven't lost control of my magic like that in a very long time, but I'm fine. I hope none of the students were hurt."

Minerva shook her head, "No, everyone was fine. They were mostly just shocked, and curious."

Hermione nodded, "I received this letter," she said, handing it over to Minerva.

As she read, Minerva's face grew more and more red, culminating in an outburst, "Has everyone I'm acquainted with become blithering fools in the last year?" she snarled, "Molly was once an intelligent, independent woman, but somewhere amidst the knitting and baking she became a fool. She believes absolutely everything that boy says without using any of her own intellect!"

"It's fine, Minerva, I'm alright. I just—you know what this means don't you?" Minerva looked at her curiously, "Minerva, the Weasely's aren't well known for their discretion or subtlety," she said quietly.

Minerva gasped, "Surely they wouldn't?"

Hermione shook her head, "Intentionally, I doubt it. But I would wager that this will be in the papers by New Years. That realization is what caused my… loss of control, in the dining hall. I hadn't intended for anyone to find out—but I certainly hadn't intended it to happen this way. I'm either going to have to accept the claims, and you know that in our world not commenting is considered the same as confirming. Or—or I would have to tell my own story."

Minerva took Hermione's hand, "I am so sorry this is all happening, Hermione."

"I'll be alright, Minerva. Though I do appreciate how much you've been there for me. You shouldn't have to be, but I am extremely grateful."

"I meant what I said this morning, Hermione. You are a very dear friend to me, and I am willing to help in absolutely any way I can."

"Thank you," Hermione said softly, "Actually, we should talk about this morning."

Minerva sighed heavily, "I was hoping we could just ignore it and hope everything goes away."

Hermione smirked, "Aren't you supposed to be the adult here?"

Minerva just waived a hand at her, "I refuse. You can be the adult now."

Hermione laughed. "Alright, _Miss. McGonagall_."

It was Minerva's turn to chuckle this time, "So am I to understand that you know of all these ridiculous rumors?" she asked.

"Yes. Very few rumors escape my knowledge around here, and I was fully informed of them when I talked to Remus last week," she explained. "Look—I am thrilled that we've become close, I care about you very much, Minerva. But I have only six months left before I graduate, and I really don't want to risk that. My reputation will very likely be ruined by all of this Weasely nonsense, but if it somehow escapes, I would like to eventually be able to work."

Minerva smiled; she loved how simple and blunt Hermione could be. Very few people spoke that way anymore, "I agree, Hermione. As of June 22nd you and I can do whatever we please, but in the meantime, I would prefer to keep our friendship contained, at least slightly."

"But—well," Hermione began, "I don't want to…what is the word Remus keeps using? _ Distance_ ourselves. Minerva, if you are still willing, I like spending time with you. I just think we should be slightly more subtle."

Minerva nodded, "Meeting in my office again primarily and perhaps here—when we're outside of class time?" Hermione nodded, "You should probably wear shoes," she joked.

"And you should set fire to your robes less often," Hermione smirked, earning a glare.

"Well it gets peoples' attention, doesn't it?" she grinned, and Hermione laughed.

"That it does."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: A Christmas chapter three weeks before Halloween, what has gotten into me!? Just so you all know, I finished the final chapter earlier this week! But you still have to wait as I finish rereading and editing them. For now, enjoy this chapter, and your weekends, please make mine all the better by clicking the lovely review button at the bottom of the page.**

**Disclaimer: I hold no claim to the Harry Potter series, nor any of the characters with in it (I can not say the same for my heart!).**

* * *

As Christmas morning bloomed, Hermione found herself smiling, despite everything. She missed her parents, and her friends, but she knew things would be alright, eventually. Hermione was looking forward to spending Christmas with a book, and a bottle of well-deserved wine. Christmas would be a small affair this year, but she was looking forward to the peace.

Stretching slightly Hermione decided to take a slow morning. She took a hot shower, and took the time to cast charms on her hair which she usually didn't bother with. She put on a red sweater dress, brown tights, and brown boots. Smiling at her reflection, she exited her room, she felt in the spirit today.

As she descended the stairs she considered going to breakfast, but was shocked when she found a small pile of gifts sitting near the tree she had put up in her common room. Being head girl, she had the luxury of a private room and common room. Upon discovering this, she couldn't bare not to put up a tree of some sort. Still, she hadn't expected to find anything under it this year.

Glancing at the presents she found that Hagrid hadn't forgotten her, despite the fact that they hadn't visited in some time, and both Remus and Minerva had sent her something. She felt a jolt of pleasure realizing that Minerva had thought of her that way. She was especially surprised to find a gift carefully wrapped from Harry, as well as letters from Ginny, and George.

She opened the letters first, in case they were negative, she would rather have something to cheer her up after the fact. But she hoped, being that they were under the Christmas tree, that they held good news.

_Dear Hermione,_

_First of all, Happy Christmas! I'm so sorry that you won't be with us this year; it just doesn't feel like Christmas without my best girlfriend. _

_Secondly, I just want you to know that I think my mother, and Ron, are completely out of line. I don't know what happened, but I have a few guesses, and all of them warrant a severe Bat Bogey Hex in Ron's direction. You've been different this year, and I just want you to know I understand, and am here if you need anything._

_Unfortunately, this has to be short, and I can't send a gift. Mum is watching and I am only getting away with this because I told her I'm writing Harry. I'm going to try and calm things down here, please keep in touch—but through Harry. (My mother is still convinced I'm going to marry Harry, and that the word "girlfriend" is completely platonic when I talk about Angelina. I swear, the woman is blind.)_

_Love,  
Ginny_

Hermione laughed out loud, and smiled broadly. Few things could compare to this letter right now. Ginny had been her closest female friend for many years, and they had experienced quite a bit together. She had been heartbroken at the prospect of losing that.

Setting the letter aside, she opened George's next, and immediately jumped back as a firework came zipping out, exploding into a sparking Crookshanks chasing rat. She laughed out loud, delighted by the magic.

_Dearest Her-mi-o-ninny,_

_First and foremost let me point out that the firework is not meant as an assassination attempt, but rather as a Christmas present. I could understand why, given recent events, you may misunderstand._

_Second, my brother is a lying git. I know it, Fred knows it, Bill and Charlie both assume it, and if I'm correct Ginny is composing her own letter currently. I think even Dad is doubtful, but he won't question Mom. Though they did have quite the discussion after she sent out that letter. Our mother, bless her heart, has always had a soft spot for Ronnikins and can't imagine him lying about such a thing. We know better._

_You're like a sister to all of us, (except for Fred, he would totally shag you if you still liked blokes, just don't tell him I said so!), and one lie from Ron isn't going to change that. _

_Happy Christmas, Mione. I hope you cause all sorts of mischief._

_Love,  
George_

Hermione giggled with delight. They didn't hate her. They still cared about her. Hermione's heart soared; she wasn't quite as alone as she seemed yesterday. She smiled as she set the letter aside and picked up the package from Harry.

She felt a pang of endearment as she looked at his familiar scrawl on the package, before remembering that she shouldn't be feeling anything of the sort; she needed to stay angry at him right now. She couldn't forgive him, not this time. She opened the package and a very old copy of Hogwarts a History sat before her. She looked at it curiously, as she picked up the note which was attached.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm not so foolish as to try and buy your forgiveness, I already had this before we started arguing, and I couldn't bear to not send it. This is a first edition of your favorite book, which previously belonged to Dumbledore himself, and includes annotations which Dumbledore added in. I thought that if anyone deserved to own it, it was you._

_I know that forgiveness won't come easy, if ever at all, but please know that I am sorry. I just don't really know what to say. You know me—emotions, not my strongest point. _

_I love, and miss you. _

_Just Harry_

Hermione smiled slightly at the familiar nickname. After Harry had told her of his first meeting with Hagrid, she had continually called him "Just Harry", though usually only when she was feeling particularly sentimental.

That was a low blow, signing the letter like that. Hermione sighed, she knew that eventually they would make up, but she wasn't ready to think about that right now. Placing the letter inside the front cover of the book, she smiled broadly, realizing what she was holding. It was, by far, the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her.

She then moved towards those gifts she knew would only make her smile. Hargrid had enclosed his traditional assortment of baked goods, and a quill, which if she was not mistaken, came from Buckbeak himself. Remus has sent her a large box of sugar quills, making her laugh. He knew well of her addiction from hours of researching in the library of Grimmauld place. He had also included a simple note, wishing her a Happy Christmas, and telling her _not to lose hope_.

Finally, she reached the gift she was most eager to open, Minerva's. First, there was a book, "More than Mindless: An insider view on the daily life of a dissatisfied house elf." There was also a pouch, which appeared to be full of Floo Powder. _Curious, _Hermione thought. Then she noticed a note sticking out of the top of the book.

_Hermione,_

_I found this book, and I knew you had to have it. The author is a house elf who actively sought his freedom, and fought for the rights of house elves in the 1950's. I thought you would appreciate it._

_The powder, well, it isn't strictly legal to give to you, so please use it wisely. It's made for the use of the Headmaster or Mistress of Hogwarts. Using the powder, just as you would normal flu powder, allows the user to travel between the floo's of Hogwarts, which would usually be closed off. _

_I thought you may find it useful in the coming months, you may in fact find it useful this morning, if you are interested in joining me for tea._

_Kindly yours,  
Minerva_

Hermione grinned broadly, and was running into the fireplace before she could reconsider.

* * *

Minerva sat in her window, staring out into the snow, as she ran her fingers over the tartan scarf wrapped around her neck. Her brother Malcolm had sent her the same scarf three years in a row, but Minerva didn't have the heart to mention it to him. Minerva sat, toying with the fabric as she considered her earlier decisions.

It was nearly eleven, and she was waiting for Hermione to arrive. She didn't know when she would open her gifts, nor if she would come at all, but she couldn't make herself leave the room. She hoped the girl would join her. Christmas had been a rather lonely affair since Albus died, and she would certainly welcome the company.

Still, she wasn't sure that giving Hermione that floo powder was her best idea; she didn't doubt Hermione would be responsible with it, but that didn't change the fact that she had just broken the law. Perhaps this is why students and professors were expected to have a clear distance between them, she sighed, "Because daft old women will give away illegal substances? No, Minerva, I don't think that is the reasoning," she said to herself.

A jingling laugh came from behind her, and Minerva turned quickly towards the fire place. Minerva was momentarily taken aback by the woman in front of her. She had grown so used to Hermione's school robes—to see her like this was staggering. She shook her head quickly, realizing Hermione had said something while she was distracted. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked what daft old women you know, and if the illegal substances are any fun," she replied, smiling.

Minerva nearly rolled her eyes, "I think you know at least one, Hermione," she joked going over and giving the younger woman a hug, "And happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas to you too," she smiled "And I think you are much younger than you realize, don't bother arguing with me. You may not have heard, but I'm the brightest witch of my age."

"Cheeky, Cheeky," Minerva grinned.

"Thank you for the book, Minerva. It sounds fascinating. I just hope you aren't opposed to lengthy diatribes regarding house-elf rights. You may just inspire a reincarnation of S.P.E.W."

"Oh dear, I did hear about that," she replied. "Albus joined, didn't he?"

Hermione frowned, "No, he refused. He thought that the house elves, for the most part, were happy as they were. But he did support my efforts."

"Well I could have sworn he joined," she laughed, "the man was exceptionally impressed and thrilled that someone was taking a notice. He talked my ear off about it on several occasions."

"Well that's good, Minerva!" She exclaimed, "That means you will be prepared when I start doing it."

Minerva laughed loudly, "Oh lucky me."

Hermione smiled, "Thank you also for the powder," she said. "You—you won't get in trouble, will you? I mean, I'm so very grateful, and touched that you would think of me, but I don't want you to face any sort of negative consequences."

"I wouldn't worry dear; no one has any way of finding out. Just please—please, only use it to get here. Or Remus' office, if he offers. I can't risk it getting around."

"Don't worry, Minerva. I would never risk causing you trouble," Hermione promised, "Now, can I give you my gift?"

Minerva's eyebrows raised, "You, you got me something?" she asked, surprised.

Hermione grinned, "I had the same reaction when I saw yours, and yes, I did. Selfishly, I was hoping I would have the opportunity to give it to you in person."

Minerva smiled back, "Hermione, thank you. You really didn't have to get me anything."

Hermione pulled a small bag out of her pocket, and enlarged it quickly. It was no larger than a small purse, but Hermione had her arm in it up to the elbow. She bit her lip in concentration, and Minerva found herself distracted, "Sorry, it fell out of its container," Hermione apologized, finally pulling out a small box wrapped in simple green paper.

"Thank you," Minerva said as she took the parcel, opening it carefully. Seeing what was inside, her breath caught. "Hermione—thank you. I don't even know where you would get such a thing."

Inside the box sat a simple wooden picture frame, and inside was a picture of Minerva and Albus sitting at the head table, in the picture Minerva couldn't have been more than 22 or 23, and was just starting work at Hogwarts. She was attempting to look stern, while Albus continually blew bubbles with his wand, forcing her into fits of laughter. "This—this is perfect."

Hermione blushed, "I noticed that you didn't have any pictures, and I thought it was a shame. So I went searching. I happen to know a certain werewolf who had an affinity for photography as a student, though he kept that hidden, lest he be mocked by one Sirius Black. Still, he has boxes full of pictures from his days at Hogwarts, and as soon as I wrote he sent me that. Really, you should be thanking Remus."

"I know who I should be thanking, Hermione," Minerva said quietly, "It's the thought that counts, right? Well you had the thought."

Hermione beamed at her, "I'm glad you like it."

"Why on earth would he have a picture of me though? I didn't even know that this picture was taken," she inquired, and Hermione snickered.

"I can only tell you if you promise to torment Remus mercilessly," Hermione said, "Apparently, he had quite the crush during his years at Hogwarts."

Minerva laughed loudly, "Did he really? As my student, I always thought he fancied Sirius."

Hermione let out a fit of giggles, "That—oh god, definitely not. Truth be told, I think he still holds a bit of a torch for you, not that he would admit it at this point."

Minerva laughed disbelievingly, "I'm sure he doesn't. I'll admit, I was by no means terribly disfigured when this picture was taken, but now," She laughed, "Who would be interested in an old woman like me?"

She stopped laughing when Hermione took her hand, "You really have no idea, do you?"

"You are the second person to say that to me this week, Remus wouldn't explain, would you care to?" She asked quietly.

"Minerva, I mean this with all the respect in the world, but you—you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," she said seriously. "And you are _not _old, you're 44 and you have more energy than most people my age. Remus was not the first, and he is far from the last, student to have held a flame for you."

"Hermione, you don't have to say that," she began, but was quickly interrupted.

"Minerva—please. You're magnificent—and I would never just say that."

Minerva found herself blushing uncharacteristically. "Thank you, Hermione."

Hermione could sense Minerva's discomfort, and quickly moved forward in their conversation, "I'm just trying to convince you that Remus has the hots for you, nothing more!" she teased.

Minerva rolled her eyes, "As good of a friend as Remus is, he will always be Mr. Lupin in my mind."

"Alas, his heart will be broken. You tease, you."

"I'm sure he will survive to love again," she laughed. "Now I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Yesterday was a long day, and I didn't eat much. Could I interest you in some well-deserved sustenance?"

Hermione smiled, "I think I could be convinced, you did offer me tea, after all."

Minerva laughed, "That I did," she said as she walked into the kitchen. Pausing as she filled the tea kettle she looked back at the woman sitting in her chambers and called out, "By the way-Happy Christmas, Hermione."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I decided to give you another quick update, since I was posting other things today anyways! If you have a free moment, and are at all interested in Hermione/Remus stories, check out my newly posted, "Unexpected Embraces." It's a revamp on a series of stories I wrote several years ago.**

**Other than that, enjoy the update, and thank you so much for all of your reviews. They're giving me the confidence to keep going!**

* * *

The rest of the Winter holidays passed quickly enough for Hermione, she spent most of her days studying in the library—thought she also studied in Minerva's chambers on occasion. When she wasn't studying, she visited with Minerva, and Remus, quite a bit, as well as popping in to see Hagrid a couple of times. Now that she had the Floo powder, Remus had no reservations about visiting regularly. He had missed her company, and was glad to have it back.

Her calm was broken quickly when the students returned to Hogwarts. Inside the castle walls she was protected from the media, but apparently she had been right about the Weasely's. Only days before New Year's the latest issue of Witch Weekly had been published, and the article had not been flattering.

Hermione was on the cover, and she recognized that the photo was taken by someone immediately following the Trio's escape from Gringotts. She was still wearing Bellatrix Lestrange's clothes. The article clearly stated that Hermione had cheated on "War Hero, Ron Weasely" with no less than four men while they were on the run. "Apparently, there were more important things to Miss Granger than defeating the Dark Lord."

They had even stripped her of her "Sexiest Witch" title, stating clearing that sleeping with Death Eater's was _not_ sexy. Hermione almost chuckled when she saw that, as if she wanted to be considered sexy by Witch Weekly.

What she didn't chuckle at were the glares, and the rumors. The day the students returned she was followed by whispers and snickering. She had spent that night sobbing again, but by the next day she was walking with a new determination towards the Owlery clutching three letters in her hand. The first two were matching letters, offering tell-all interviews to both the Prophet and Witch Weekly—assuming that they were willing to sign contracts agreeing to let her proofread the final pieces. The last, was more difficult, it was to Draco Malfoy.

_Dear Draco,_

_I'm sure it's a shock to be hearing from me, and most likely not pleasant, but unfortunately I am in a situation which requires me to beg for your assistance. _

_Let's be honest, I saved your life on more than one occasion in the past, and I helped clear your name after the war. All I'm asking is for your testimony in my favor. You have no doubt heard Ronald Weasely's account of my infidelity which has been circulating around newsstands. _

_These rumors are not only damaging to me personally, but they are putting a strain on my professional, and my academic choices, as well as causing damage to those people who continue to align themselves to me. _

_I'm therefore asking for your help. There are only two people alive who know what happened that day. I can easily tell my story, but no one is going to believe a frizzy haired muggleborn, you know that. I am asking that you give a statement to those reporters who I allow access to my story. Having my worst enemy confirm my story would most likely bring some merit to it. At least that is my hope._

_I know you're not evil, Draco. Please, help me. _

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione J. Granger_

After sending her letters Hermione headed to Minerva's classroom for their Monday morning class. "Good Morning, Professor," she called out.

"Miss. Granger, welcome back," she smirked, and Hermione grinned. "You look very… happy. Not that I'm not pleased, but I expected you to be a bit less so, after yesterday." Minerva had noticed the treatment her friend had been receiving, and had taken away a fair share of points yesterday as she heard it. She had expected Hermione to be hurting, not…glowing.

"I have a plan," she whispered quickly. "I'll tell you all about it after class, but I'm taking control, Minerva."

Just then, students started trickling in. As class started, Hermione began marking down absences and tardies as Minerva explained the theory behind switching spells.

Suddenly, Minerva snapped, "What are you all whispering about? I have taken twenty points already, and I would prefer not to have to take more. Mr. Johnson, you were just whispering, explain."

Hermione almost felt pity as she watched the boy pale considerably, it was obvious that Mr. Johnson did _not_ want to have to explain this. "Well…" he hesitated, "many of the students were wondering, well they were wondering what _she _is doing here." Hermione watched as the other students nodded slightly.

"Miss. Granger?" Minerva asked, perplexed, "She has been here since October; she grades quite a few of your papers. Why wouldn't she be here?" Hermione felt her stomach tightening, realizing exactly where this conversation was headed.

"Well," Johnson said quietly, looking at his desk. "Now that she's a death eater—"

Suddenly a mirror on the opposite wall shattered, and Hermione looked quickly towards Minerva who was quivering slightly. "Enough." Minerva growled as the students quivered slightly, "It is obvious that we here at Hogwarts have failed you all, as you have not been taught how to choose reliable sources. That is a _much _more important skill than any wand waving could ever be. _Therefore_, I want 5 to 8 pages from each of you describing, in detail, what makes a reliable source, and what makes an unreliable source, using at least six examples. Any student who fails to complete this assignment satisfactorily, will not receive a passing mark in my class. Is that understood?"

The students nodded dumbly. "You are all dismissed to work on your newest assignment," she snarled. "Get out of my classroom."

As the students shrunk out the door, Hermione whistled lowly. "That was impressive, Professor. You're giving Professor Snape a run for his money."

Minerva sensed something in Hermione's tone, and raised an eyebrow towards her, "You disapprove?"

Hermione flushed, "Only mildly. Such a performance wasn't necessary for my sake. I have been called far worse, by far more informed."

Minerva shook her head, and for just a moment, returned her face to the stern mask of the professor Hermione had known for eight years, "Did it _ever _occur to you, that my display had very little to do with you?" she asked. "Miss. Granger, those students, muttering under their breath during my class are not only disturbing class, and insulting you, they are also questioning my authority and my ability as their professor, and headmistress. They are disrespecting a person who, in terms of this class, is more or less a professor, and they are implying that I am incapable of judging the character of my employees."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly.

"Hermione, you are a dear friend, but you are also an assistant professor in this class—and to be quite honest, if I had my way you would eventually find yourself as a permanent fixture within these walls. I have reacted similarly to declarations regarding Severus, I've simply never met students with the gall to mention such things in the middle of my class before," Minerva raked a hand through her hair, "I will not have the students of this school disrespecting me."

Hermione nodded, flushed with embarrassment. Of course Minerva wouldn't lose her temper like that over _her_. That was a preposterous idea, and Hermione couldn't believe she would presume such a thing. "I'm sorry Minerva, I was just surprised. Despite all of the shenanigans my classes have put you through; I have never seen you react that way—particularly with the shards of glass flying about the room."

Minerva chuckled slightly, "_That _particular part may have had a small amount to do with you—possibly. And I'm not surprised you've never seen that, the last time I lost my temper in a classroom I had only just started teaching, my first year, and a sixteen year old Lucius Malfoy had whistled at me as I entered the class room. The windows shattered that day.

Hermione laughed, "I would have loved to see that."

Minerva smiled, "I was mortified at the time, but taking 75 points from Slytherin greatly eased the embarrassment," she explained. "Now, you were going to tell me about your plan to, what did you say, _'take control'_?"

Hermione beamed again, a determined glint in her eye. "I'm giving an interview, Minerva."

"Are you sure that's wise, Hermione? You know how they like to twist words in those articles, I would hate for things to be made worse."

"Ye of little faith!" she laughed, "I have told both the Prophet and Witch Weekly that I will be willing to give an all access interview, including details from our year in hiding. The only rule is that I get final approval of any articles run—as in, they will be required to sign a legal contract with me, which if they break, will allow me to absolutely destroy them. I think they'll take the deal though, I've agreed to tell them everything."

Minerva quirked an eyebrow at the younger woman, "Everything?"

Hermione simply waived a hand in the air, "Well, everything I feel compelled to share. They don't _know _everything, so as long as I tell them _something _they should be satisfied.

Minerva laughed at that, "How very Slytherin of you, Hermione."

"Oh! That reminds me of the best part!" Hermione exclaimed. "Aren't you wondering how I plan on making the world _believe _any of my nonsensical ramblings? It's no secret that I have always been the least favored among the _Golden Trio_."

Minerva nodded, "I had wondered, but I didn't want to dash your hopes."

"No dashing necessary, I have a secret weapon. I've written to one Draco Malfoy," she explained. "I think he will hate it, but he will help me. He owes me quite a bit, actually. I saved is life several times, and I testified at his hearing to allow him minimum legal repercussions following the war. And—well, I saw him during the whole—episode. He was nearly as horrified as I was, not that he will ever admit it. I think that he still hates me, but will be willing to help me."

Minerva nodded, "Perhaps my judgment is faulty, but I never thought Draco was of the same spirit as his father. He was just a brainwashed child who wanted to please his _incredibly _abusive father. It doesn't excuse what he has done, nor what he has failed to do, but that is still my character analysis."

"I agree," Hermione nodded. "That was one thing that Harry, Ron, and I could never agree on."

"Well I do hope you are successful, Hermione. These rumors, and the treatment—it's not right Hermione, they're not right. You do know that don't you?" Hermione nodded silently. "Now you need to head to class, Remus will have my head if you're late again."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow Minerva," she smiled, picking up her back and hurrying from the room.

"Till tomorrow, Hermione."

* * *

Hermione sat pouring over a transfiguration text when a knock sounded outside of her chambers. Her eyebrows raised, she was unaccustomed to anyone visiting her here. Opening the portrait she nearly drew her wand, before remembering herself. "Draco Malfoy, I can't say I was expecting you here," she greeted.

The blond looked anxiously around him, and Hermione realized how difficult it must be for him to be in the castle, "Come in," she said reluctantly, "I hope you are not offended if I keep hold of my wand for the moment, I trust very few of my old friends' these days, let alone my old enemies."

He nodded curtly, "I would consider you to be lacking in all your faculties if you didn't."

"Forgive my rudeness, but what are you doing here Draco?"

He sighed heavily, "I would like to discuss your letter."

She nodded, urging him to continue.

"I am—willing, to assist you. As loathe as I am to admit it, you have been greatly wronged by my family, and myself, and I owe you a favor, to say the least," she genuinely smiled at his words. "But, I would have some terms.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she replied, "What are your terms?"

"I am currently engaged," he confided, "She is pregnant."

Hermione looked at him shocked, "Wow, I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I," he admitted, smiling genuinely for the first time. "But I love her, and am happy. The problem is, I have a reputation. You know that, I know that. I have no way to erase or make up for what I've done, and that reputation _will _affect my son." Hermione nodded, they both knew there was no point in lying about this fact. "What I am trying to do, is refrain from causing more trouble for him. I want to separate myself from my family's legacy, and I don't want to add to the villainous character I make. While I will speak for you, I must insist that neither I myself— nor my current actions, be villainized in any way through this piece.

"I know that we aren't friends, and I realize you have every reason to hate me. But you are also honest. You _know, _I had nothing to do with that day," He grimaced, looking at his feet. "My wife and child will have to live with my reputation as a death eater, and a murderer. I would prefer if rapist was not added to that resume."

"Malfoy," she began carefully. "I have complete control over everything which is released in those articles, and I promise you, there will not be a single negative comment. I—I saw how that day affected you, I pay attention. You were nearly as frantic as Harry, Ron, and I. You may not be perfect, but you don't deserve to be tormented."

He nodded, "So when would this interview take place?"

"I'm not sure yet, I'm still working on scheduling them. I assume they would schedule yours separately though, unless you would like to have them at the same time."

He shook his head, "I'm fine with whatever you choose. Just let me know."

"Thank you, Malfoy. This means a lot to me."

He nodded, "I just," he hesitated for a moment before looking at her meaningfully. "I wish I could have done more.

She nodded, as he suddenly donned his traditional smirk, "And you should have believed me about Weasel from the start," he winked, walking out of her door.

She shook her head, but couldn't stop herself from laughing.

* * *

It was three weeks later that the first article hit newsstands. Hermione had known the date, she had scheduled it herself—and yet at 1:00 A.M. she found herself flooing to Minerva McGonagall's chambers.

"Mi-Minerva?" she called out, and watched as the older woman jumped from her seat on the couch.

"Hermione? What on earth are you doing here?"

Hermione shook, "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be here. But I can't breathe, and my chest is constricting, and I think I'm having a heart attack—can 19 year olds have heart attacks? And I didn't know where to go, or who to talk to, but that's dumb, I probably should have gone to the Hospital Wing. If you're having a heart attack you go to Hospital Wing. Fuck!" she swore, "I'm sorry Minerva, I'm just going to go to the Hospital Wing," she said as she stepped towards the fire.

Minerva grabbed her quickly, "Hermione! Slow down, you don't even have any floo powder, and I would prefer if you didn't burn to death in my living room," she said quickly. "You're not having a heart attack, you're just panicking. Stay here just a moment," she begged as she ran into her bathroom.

Hermione heard her digging through a cabinet, and she emerged holding a vile of calming draught, "This will help," she explained.

Hermione drank down the vile without question, and sank down onto Minerva's couch, "What am I going to _do, _Minerva?"

"About what, Hermione?"

"This article, it is going to be released tomorrow," she said quietly, and Minerva wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulders. "Everyone is going to know."

"Hermione, it'll be alright. Everyone is going to realize how much stronger you are than they even realized before. Everyone will understand, you'll see."

Hermione nodded, "I hope so," she whispered, leaning into Minerva. "I'm just scared."

Minerva closed her eyes tightly, she was scared too.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews, you definitely made this week a good one! It also makes me laugh to see how many of you are desperately hoping for things I already have written, I think you will enjoy where we are headed! Keep up the reviewing, and let me know what you're hoping to see! If I haven't written it already, perhaps I can add it! Enjoy!**

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Hermione Granger: The Girl Who Lived  
Written By: Rita Skeeter

Nine months after the demise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Hermione Granger (noted member of the Golden Trio and named 3rd Sexiest Witch Alive by Witch Weekly Magazine) has fallen into disgrace as the wizarding world mourns the reputation of their most beloved witch.

Accused by former boyfriend Ronald Weasely of adultery, dark arts, and simply bad friendship, she finds little solace in her studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "I've been left alone," she tells this interviewer, "my friends have abandoned me, my professors are disgusted with me. And the worst part is that no one is even interested in hearing my side of the story."

These whispers are exactly what led Miss Granger to contact this Daily Prophet Reporter in early January. "I just want a chance to tell my story, our story, as it should have been told to begin with. I'm not looking to make friends; I'm just looking to expose the truth."

All this being said, fellow reporter Melinda Mintly (of Witch Weekly Magazine) and I sat down with Miss Granger last month and were given the teary-eyed story of the lovely Miss. Granger.

Rita Skeeter: So Miss. Granger, it's no secret that you generally avoid the press. What caused you to change your mind today?

Hermione Granger: Well, Rita, I felt that the lies which are being spread about me are not only harming to me, but to others in my life. While I'm more than capable of handling the rumors, I don't appreciate the fact that they're harming those around me. I think it's time for us to come clean about exactly what happened while we were away, and put all of that behind us.

Melinda Mintly: And by "_what happened while we were away,_" you mean that you want to clear up the rumors which have circulated regarding you and not one, but 4 death eaters last year.

Hermione: Among other things, yes.

Rita: Well then, clear it all up for us Miss. Granger. What exactly were you, Mister Weasely, and Mister Potter, up to last year?

Hermione: I think almost all of Brittan knows that one; we were searching for a way to destroy Voldemort. That, all else aside, we were successful at. Harry and I were able to track down the remaining items which connected Voldemort's soul to our realm, and I found the spell to destroy them. After that, it was just a fair duel which was his downfall.

Melinda: It's been said that you believe yourself to be responsible for the success of your group; that you think of yourself as the true unsung hero. What do you say to these claims?

Hermione: I would say that those people have clearly never spoken with me. It was a team effort; it has always been a team effort. There are certainly those who have pointed extra attention towards me, or towards Harry, but when it came down to it, all three of us were required.

Melinda: What about Ron? People don't find his contributions to be of importance?

Hermione (with a laugh): Ron was—is, a below average student, but an incredible friend to Harry. While he may not have had much to do with the downfall of Voldemort _magically_, he was certainly important to us in regards to friendship. Harry and I both suffered severely when he disappeared last December, it was only once he returned that we could really move forward with are attempts to win the war.

Rita: Do you mean to tell us that Ron Weasely abandoned the fight against the Dark Lord last winter?

Hermione: Oh, dear, that came out all wrong. I mean—yes, he did leave. He was terribly home sick, and worried for his family. And it was _Christmas_ after all. At the time we were living in a drafty little tent, living off of transfigured fungus and water. We were terrified and in danger all the time, and Harry didn't have any idea where we should go next. It was a tough time and we completely understood why Ron couldn't handle that, at least in the long run. And once he returned, and Harry had recovered from his near death experience at Godric's Hollow, we were able to mend our friendship entirely.

Melinda: If your friendship was so completely mended, why the most recent attack on your morals?

Hermione: Well that was some time after his return. You see, Ron and I began dating. I had cared for him for quite some time, but he chose to stand me up for our first date, and instead begin a relationship with Miss. Lavender Brown. At the time, I thought that it would be a funny story to look back on when we were older. After the death of Albus Dumbledore, we grew incredibly close, and began seeing each other the summer after our sixth year. It was as if we had both suddenly opened our eyes for the first time, we were in love.

Melinda: What happened at that point?

Hermione: We only grew closer as we went into hiding, and everything was going quite well until the night at Malfoy Manor.

Rita: Reports tell us that you three were captured, and you were tortured using the Cruciatus Curse. Is that correct?

Hermione: Partially. We were captured and I was able to disfigure Harry with a Stinging Hex before they could identify him. Unfortunately, seeing three teenagers on the run they weren't fooled for a moment, and immediately brought us to Malfoy Manor. The Malfoy's, as you know, were housing Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange at the time. Not wanting the tickle their Dark Lord's temper, they asked young Draco Malfoy to identify Harry.

Rita: If I recall, you three had quite the rivalry between Mr. Malfoy and his friends during your first six years at Hogwarts.

Hermione: We did, I had even punched Malfoy at one point in my third year! But Malfoy performed admirably, in front of his parents, his aunt, and several of the most formidable Death Eaters he lied. He said he was unsure if it was us—we were too dirty and cut up to be recognizable.

Rita: But you think he recognized you?

Hermione: I'm positive, I mean, he had known us for seven years.. and besides, how could he forget this hair?

Rita: Why would he lie for you?

Hermione: We wondered the same thing, but I think what it came down to was the difference between childhood squabbles, and good and evil. Draco comes from a family which was evil and abusive—but he is no more evil than Harry or I am.

Melinda: What happened after that?

Hermione: Well you all know that story don't you? I was tormented under the wand of Bellatrix for several hours, and permanently branded as a "Mudblood". Unfortunately that is only part of the story. When my sanity didn't break from her torment, she decided to give me to several of the Death Eaters to play with. Lucius Malfoy, Fenrir Greyback, Yaxley, and Antonin Dolohov.

Rita: With respect, to clarify for our readers, when you say "play with", what exactly are you saying?

Hermione: I was raped by those men.

Melinda: Miss. Granger!

Rita: Why was this never reported to the Ministry?!

Hermione: At the time, I was keeping the incident from Harry and Ron. They were both greatly affected by listening to my torture while locked in the basement, and I could only imagine their grief if they discovered what _actually_ happened up there. I was also concerned because of Ron, I loved him so much, but I just couldn't look at him after that.

Rita: Why was that?

Hermione: Well, Antonin Dolohov was an unregistered Metamorphmagus.

Rita: Clarifying for our readers again, that means he was capable of taking on the appearance of anyone—or a complete imaginary persona.

Hermione: Yes. They knew of my relationship with Ron—so he took that form. He was—he was quite vicious. Moreso than the rest, if possible. Afterwards, I didn't want to blame Ron, obviously it wasn't his fault at all, but I just couldn't bear to look at him—to be touched by him.

Melinda: You poor woman!

Hermione: Thank you Miss. Mintly, but I'm not looking for sympathy. We were at war, and unfortunately, many people came out of the war far more damaged that I. I have my life, I have my mind, and I have friends. Unfortunately, this event has caused the destruction of my friendship with Ron and Harry.

Melinda: How so, Hermione?

Hermione: Ron is a wonderful man, but he has always been incredibly jealous. He is under the impression that I could have stopped the events of Malfoy Manor from occurring—if I had tried harder.

Rita: He didn't?!

Hermione: Unfortunately, when I explained the situation, those were the conclusions he drew. He knows that I am capable of very small amounts of wandless magic, when I am fully focused, and believes that I should have been able to stop the attack. That is where his accusations of infidelity lie.

Melinda: What about the boy who lived, Hermione? How did Harry react?

Hermione: Harry—Harry has difficulty handling high emotions at times. When I told them, he left with Ron, and he did not defend me. But he has since apologized, and I believe that given time we will be able to mend our friendship. That is my hope at least.

Rita: Well, given all of this information, it seems we should be calling you the _girl_ who lived. Your story is impressive and heartbreaking Miss. Granger.

Hermione: As I said, Rita, I'm not looking for pity or friendship. I realize that many people will not understand the strange situation which my friends and I found ourselves in after last year. I simply want the truth to be out there, for those who wish to seek it out.

Rita: Well I know that we here at the Daily Prophet—

Melinda: And at Witch Weekly!

Rita: Appreciate your truth, and the sacrifices you have made to ensure the safety of the wizarding community. I wish you all the happiness in the world, Hermione.

Following this interview, Miss. Mintly and I decided to do a bit of digging, just to be sure we were provided with the whole truth which Miss. Granger had promised. We were given these words of wisdom from several of her closest friends:

"_I honestly can't believe it took us this long to realize what had happened. Hermione has been different for months, hiding these secrets from the world. I just wish her friends had spent more time talking to their best friend, rather than persecuting her for ending her relationship with Mister Weasely." – Remus Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and War Hero._

"_I will never forgive myself for reacting the way I did when Hermione finally shared her story. It is obvious that all of Ron's claims were unfounded, and I should have expected such a reaction after his disappearance last winter. He just isn't the boy I met in my first year anymore." – Harry Potter, The Boy Who Conquered._

"_Hermione is the reason why this war was won, and she is the reason that both of those boys survived. I would have expected better of them. One thing is for certain though, Hermione Granger is not a liar, if this is what she claims occurred, than this is the truth. I support her, as does all of Hogwarts." – Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

"_I was present during the attacks on Miss. Granger, and I will never be able to forgive myself for not intervening. It is, above all else, my greatest regret. I was a foolish child, living under the control of countless sadistic wizards. My only solace comes from the fact that Miss. Granger's tormentors are all dead, and unable to hurt anyone else." – Draco Malfoy, Son of Lucius Malfoy and witness to Miss Granger. (Further remarks can be found on page C4 in "Raised behind a Mask: The Childhood of a Death Eater in Training")_

With these reports in hand, we at the Daily Prophet can only offer our most sincere apologies to Miss Granger regarding our previously printed article, "Granger Danger: The Sexual Exploits of the Wizarding World's Most Beloved Good Girl".

* * *

Ron Weasely was stocking shelves, and preparing for shop opening, when he was suddenly and unceremoniously flung against a wall—a wand sharply stabbing into his neck. "Ginny!" he shouted, "What the hell are you doing!?"

Ginny stepped back a pace before punching him firmly across the jaw. "You sick, slimy sonofabitch!" She yelled. "What the hell kind of Gryffindor are you?" she spat, throwing the newspaper at him.

"What are you talking about, Gin?" He asked, rubbing his swelling jaw.

"Read the fucking paper, Ron, it might educate you," she growled. "That woman loved you like family—like more than family. Damnit Ron, I don't have a choice but to put up with your idiocy on a regular basis, she did. And she was STILL your friend. I knew something was wrong, I _knew _I was missing something, but I never thought it was something like this. You disgust me," she snarled as she turned to leave the store.

"So you're really going to believe that...that whore over me?" He yelled. Ginny turned around, wand drawn, but before she could utter a spell Ron was thrown against a wall, unconscious. Looking towards the register she saw Fred, looking serious—and ill.

He just shook his head and walked into the back room. Even for a Weasely twin, there was no humor today.

* * *

"Molly, we need to have a conversation," Arthur said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hm?" Molly mumbled, looking up from her novel, "What about?"

"Have you read the Prophet this morning?" He asked, and watched as a frown appeared on her face.

"I don't read gossip, dear." She said, moving to leave the room.

"Molly," he said in an uncharacteristically firm voice. "This isn't gossip. Have you even read it? It's not just Hermione—Harry spoke to them as well, Remus was quoted a couple of times. Even Draco Malfoy stood up to reveal the truth of the war."

"Well, of course _Draco _would agree, they're on the same side now, aren't they?" she snapped.

"Enough, Molly," Arthur said quietly, "Everything else aside, you _know_ Hermione is no death eater. You know that. Read the article, I'm going to go write Hermione now."

Molly heaved a sigh as she eyed the newspaper distastefully, she should probably get this over with.

* * *

Hermione couldn't help but wipe tears from her eyes as she walked quickly towards Minerva's rooms, subtlety be damned, she wasn't going to hide today.

Minerva smiled when she saw the younger woman at her door, "Hermione, I didn't expect you. I was just leaving for class, but you are welcome to walk with me."

"That would be lovely, Professor," Hermione grinned, pulling the letters out of her bag. "Look at these," she whispered. "I've received letters from half a dozen friends already, absolutely groveling.

"I don't blame them," Minerva remarked. "That article was brilliant. You gave the entire story, but you did so without once passing blame on anyone. And after an innocent act like that, _'It was Christmas, after all._'" She recited with a laugh, "Readers will hate Ron all the more for the rumors he spread about you. Everyone will want to be on your good side."

Hermione just shrugged, "I just want my friends back, and if that is what I'm getting, I'm happy. Arthur wrote me; apparently he had it out with Molly this morning. He's been supporting me all along, but didn't want to get involved, after this article he has had enough. He's apologized for the entire family, and told me that Molly will be reading that article if he has to '_goose tape her to a chair and read it to her!'_ I think he meant to reference muggle duct tape, but that is beside the point."

"That is fantastic, Hermione!" Minerva beamed.

"And apparently Ginny and Fred both hexed Ron this morning; Ginny is planning on visiting Harry to tell him off for not speaking up sooner. Admittedly, I'm just happy he commented in the article at all. That was an unexpected joy."

"I have to admit, I'm pleased with him for that. It was about time he spoke up," Minerva commented. "I'm sorry, dear, but I really must get to class. Somehow Gryffindor and Slytherin always end up together in fifth year—just when they start being truly capable of harming each other. So I have to beat them there. I'll see you in class, and at our meeting this evening?"

"I'm looking forward to it," Hermione smiled. Minerva smiled for a moment as well, before reclaiming her usual stern face. It wouldn't do for Minerva McGonagall to be seen idly grinning. That wouldn't do at all.

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**Thank you so much for reading, and please remember to review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Forgive me, I just couldn't wait to post this chapter. It's probably my favorite chapter of the story! Please let me know what you think, and have an awesome weekend!**

**Disclaimer: As usual, I hold no claim to the realm of HP, and simply enjoy playing within it.**

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That evening Hermione and Minerva stood in her office, "Are you sure you're ready for this," Minerva asked warily. "You need to have the utmost concentration for the initial spell; otherwise it can be incredibly dangerous."

"Minerva, stop worrying," Hermione said assuredly, slipping off her outer robes and rolling up her sleeves. "I'm completely focused, and ready for this. I'm excited."

"I know you are, but it's been an eventful day—surely your mind is otherwise occupied," Minerva worried.

Hermione just shook her head, "Really Minerva, I'm doing wonderfully. I feel completely focused, and calm. Please, trust me."

"You really are, aren't you?" Minerva asked, "I'll be honest, I thought this meeting may be taken up by more visiting than working, I thought you would be stressed. You're taking all of this in stride."

"Minerva," Hermione smiled, "The worst has already happened. I was attacked; I lost my best friends, my reputation, and honestly, my spirit. You helped me get that all back and I feel strong again. I'm just—very, very happy right now."

Minerva nodded, "I mean this without a shred of condescending, Hermione, but I am extremely, extremely proud of you. The way you handled all of this—I don't think even I would have been as capable. It was amazing."

Hermione smiled happily at her professor, "Thank you, Minerva. That means a lot."

"Alright," she said numbly. "Go ahead." She couldn't help but admire the woman before her—she had been through the worst kind of hell, and yet here she was. She was a true Gryffindor lioness and damnit if Minerva didn't find her to be the most beautiful thing in the world. Her hair was falling out of the careful braid she had sculpted this morning, and her shirt was obviously wrinkled, but the look of concentration, and pure uncontained magic, which overwhelmed her face created a surge of emotion in Minerva, and just as Hermione's wand began movement, Minerva found herself thinking, "I love this woman."

Minerva started suddenly, and Hermione's eyes grew wide. She hadn't just thought that, she had said it aloud. Minerva was not only mortified, but completely horrified as she watched a look of pain etch over Hermione's face. Minerva's slip up had come just as Hermione had cast the spell—her concentration had been broken.

With a sudden lurch Hermione had fallen to the floor, screams of pain echoing throughout Minerva's office as she curled into herself, "Minerva," she cried out, "Something went wrong."

Minerva already knew that though, thinking of nothing but the agonized screams and the snapping of bones which surrounding her she scooped Hermione up in her arms, surprised by how light the woman was. Then she was running.

When Poppy would later ask why she didn't just floo or levitate the girl, Minerva wouldn't have an answer. She had simply panicked, and given in to her more muggle instincts—run.

Student's stared as the usually composed Headmistress sprinted through the halls holding the head girl, alarmed by the tortured screams which were erupting from her. Minerva nearly collapsed as she skidded into the Hospital Wing, "Poppy!" she shouted, "Poppy where the hell are you?"

Poppy came running immediately, "What happened Minerva?"

"Bad Animagus attempt—very bad. Inability to reclaim the original form, fur, whiskers, I've seen all of that, but _nothing _like this. The worse I've seen. She was distracted, Poppy, badly distracted. I never should have let her try right now."

Poppy nodded, "Give me space, Minerva. She'll be alright, but I need space."

Minerva regretfully set the young woman down on a bed, and backed away. "I'll be outside, Poppy. If you need _anything, _please call me."

Several minutes later, Remus Lupin appeared at her side, "What happened, Minerva. I heard the students talking, they said she was screaming?"

"Oh Remus," she whispered, before she burst into tears.

He quickly took her arm and led her into a more private alcove, "Min, it's alright," He whispered. He had to admit, he was a bit terrified now; he had _never _seen her act like this, not even after Albus' death. She was more leant to suffering in silence, than emotional displays. "Minerva, tell me what's going on, please," he begged.

"I told her I was in love with her!" Minerva cried, and Remus groaned.

"And she started writhing in pain?" He snarked, Minerva glared at him.

"I didn't mean to say it, I just thought it. But then it was out loud, and in the middle of her attempting to transform into an Animagus for the first time."

"She got distracted," he guessed.

"I've never seen anyone have this much of a reaction, Remus. Never."

"Damn," Remus swore, "Does Poppy think she'll be alright?"

"She told me I needed to leave, and she didn't say anything else," Minerva said weekly, having finally gotten control of her tears. "Oh Remus, how could I have been so foolish. I'm a grown woman, for goodness sake."

"Minerva, it was a mistake. You didn't mean to say anything."

"Not that Remus, I mean—I mean the feelings in general. How could I let myself fall in love with my student?"

Remus shook his head, "Honestly, Minerva. I think that may have been one of the best things you've ever done," he said, squeezing her hand gently. "You—you both deserve each other. It's just, right."

"So right that she is going to die from my declaration of love," Minerva whispered, and Remus sighed.

"She won't die, Min. She's stronger than that." Minerva just nodded, praying that Remus was correct.

* * *

It was two hours later when Poppy finally came out of the Hospital Wing, looking exhausted.

"Poppy," Minerva squeaked, practically running over to the woman. "How is she?"

"Alive," Poppy exhaled, "It looks like her spell work was successful, but she was distracted more than half way through transformation. Most witches and wizards attempting Animagi transformation are either far more unsuccessful—barely transforming at all, or they transform flawlessly. Hermione—very simply, was_ too_ successful with her first try. If she hadn't lost focus, she most likely would have succeeded on her first try. I had to reverse a lot of damage—she had broken a total of 52 bones, punctured her spleen, and dislocated both shoulders, six fingers, 3 toes, both elbows, and her hip."

Minerva looked as if she was going to collapse at this point, "Will she—"

Poppy nodded, "She should be alright. She's unconscious at the moment, but I think she'll be alright. It's just a matter of waiting for her to wake up."

Minerva nodded, "Poppy, I would like to stay with her—wait for her to wake up. She shouldn't be alone, and she really doesn't have anyone right now."

Poppy nodded, "Please do, Minerva. You may be helpful in explaining what's happened to her when she wakes up."

"And—I can depend upon your discretion, Poppy? You have no doubt heard the rumors which many staff members have fallen prey to," Minerva asked, her eyebrows furrowed. She wanted to stay with Hermione, _needed_ to, but she didn't want to destroy either of their reputations by doing it.

She had destroyed enough tonight.

Poppy smiled, "Of course, Minerva," she answered without hesitation, bustling back to her office.

"Thank Merlin for that woman," she sighed.

"Are you alright, Minerva?" Remus asked from the corner, discretely watching the evening unfold.

"I'll be alright," she whispered, sounding exhausted and far older than her age. It worried Remus, that a woman so strong and sharp could be completely crippled. He had thought her earlier reaction would calm once she had seen Hermione, whole and alive. Instead, she looked more wearied than ever.

"Thank you, Remus," Minerva continued, turning to the younger professor, "For helping me earlier, I don't know what came over me."

He nodded, looking questioningly at her, "You really do love her, don't you?" he asked.

Minerva sighed, her eyes never drifting from Hermione, "More than anything, Remus."

"You should tell her again, Minerva," he advised. "Trust me, feelings or no, she would appreciate knowing."

Minerva just nodded, taking the girl's pale hand in her own, and laying her forehead against the bed. It was going to be a difficult wait.

* * *

Hermione paced her rooms anxiously looking at the clock. She had promised Minerva that she would visit at 7:00, and it was currently 6:42.

It had taken Hermione three days to wake up after the accident, and she had felt miserable. It was as if her entire body had disintegrated, and then slowly reassembled. Even now, it had been nearly a week, and she was still sore, still limping, still having trouble sleeping. It was beyond frustrating for the independent Gryffindor. It took everything she had to even go to class.

When Hermione awoke, Minerva was at her side, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling. She had been asleep in the chair next to her hospital bed, hair tangled slightly around her face, and cloak partially unbuttoned. Hermione could tell that Minerva had thrown discretion to the wind and stayed here after the accident, and Hermione couldn't help but be pleased.

But since that day, Hermione hadn't seen the woman. She had briefly explained what happened, and then left—claiming that she had an important meeting. Then—nothing outside of scheduled classes.

Nothing until today, when she received the note.

_Hermione,_

_I'm pleased to hear that you are feeling better, and I was wondering if you may be interested in having tea this evening at seven o'clock. I feel there are some details regarding your accident which I should clarify._

_Yours,  
Minerva_

Hermione had spent the entire day looking at that note. It was odd; Minerva had become incredibly casual with her over the last month. They had spent increased time together and written back and forth continuously—but this note, this note was formal. She sounded eerily like the Professor McGonagall that Hermione had known for so many years—a part of the woman that Hermione cared for dearly, but she by no means wished to return to that level of formality.

But then, _Yours,_ that was unexpected. Hermione was sure she was just reading into things, but Minerva had signed her letters _kindly_, or _kindly yours_, for as long at Hermione had been visiting with her. Something had changed during her accident, and Hermione wanted to know what it was.

She also, in all honesty, wanted to know what she was missing about the accident. Not only was Hermione frustrated by her failure, but she also felt as if she was missing a vital part of the story, and she hoped that was what Minerva planned to inform her of. At 6:53 Hermione gave up and went to the fireplace, she nervously flattened her hair and took a breath before stepping through.

What she found on the other side left her speechless for a moment; Minerva was sitting on the couch reading. It was something so simple, something she had observed so many times before, but this time it was different. Instead of her teaching robes she was wearing a pair of jeans, and an emerald sweater. Her hair was loosely braided over a shoulder. She was reading the Wizard of Oz, and had a look of complete peace about her. Hermione had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

"An intriguing book choice," Hermione whispered, smiling. "Very few witches can appreciate that book—or the subsequent movie."

Minerva smiled softly, "I have loved this book since I was a child. It was the first book series I ever read actually—that was a long time ago. Today, I just wanted something comfortable. I wanted a bit of my muggle-side back as well."

Hermione smiled, "I can completely understand that. No matter how many times I read them, I always find myself returning to the Redwall books. Muggle children's literature is much better at growing with you than magical literature." Minerva nodded lightly. "I've missed seeing you, Minerva."

"I'm sorry I haven't been around, especially with how injured you were. I—well I needed to do some thinking."

Hermione looked at her hands, "I wasn't of the opinion that I usually put a damper on your thoughts. We, in fact, seem to do a lot of thinking together."

"That we do," she smiled, "But that doesn't stop me from needing to focus on my own thoughts from time to time."

Hermione nodded, "I understand. I was just worried that I had upset you in some way, I—I don't remember the accident, other than the pain, and I would hate if my _distraction_ had been somehow offensive to you."

Minerva laughed, "No, Hermione darling, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry; I should have known you would jump to that conclusion. It's actually I that needs to apologize."

She tilted her head to the right, "What on earth for?" she asked.

"Hermione, you know that you were somehow distracted from your spell work, correct?" Hermione nodded, confused, "Well, I was the distraction. I caused you to lose your focus. It was an accident, but it was entirely my fault, and I am so sorry, dear. You nearly died, and—well I just don't know what to say."

Hermione took Minerva's hand lightly, "Minerva, I'm sure it was an accident. You have nothing to apologize for."

Minerva pulled away, and Hermione frowned. "I do, Hermione. While it was an accident, it was an accident which should _never _have had the opportunity to arise."

"Minerva, please just explain it to me, so I can understand. What did you do exactly?" Hermione asked.

Minerva paled significantly, and nodded her head firmly, seeming to decide something for herself. She cleared her through slightly before speaking. "Hermione—you were distracted by me," she sighed heavily, "by me telling you that I am in love with you."

Hermione's eyes widened, and Minerva was quick to keep speaking, "I assure you Hermione, I meant nothing by the confession—I honestly didn't plan on confessing at all, it just slipped out, and then you were screaming, and bones were cracking. I promise, I expect nothing of you, and I do hope that you will continue our friendship, Hermione, but I understand if,"

Hermione interrupted her quickly, "Minerva, breathe."

Minerva put her head in her hands, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I never meant for this to happen," she mumbled.

Hermione put her hand softly on Minerva's knee, "Please look at me," she begged. Minerva looked up slowly, her eyes pleading with Hermione to understand. "Minerva, I wish that I could remember the first time you said that, and I wish that my reaction could have been better."

Minerva laughed lightly, "Me too, Hermione," she sighed.

"Do—do you want to know how I would have reacted," she said, staring at her fingers shyly. Minerva nodded numbly, barely daring to hope.

Hermione carefully closed the distance between the two, gently pressing her lips to the older woman's. She smiled when she felt Minerva relax into the kiss, gently placing her hand on the side of Hermione's face.

Pulling away slightly Hermione, blushed, "I have been thinking about doing that since October," she whispered, "Minerva, I'm in love with you as well."

"You're sure?" Minerva asked carefully, "I don't want you to feel pressured in any way, I know I'm your professor still, but I am not trying to—" she was cut off my Hermione's lips on hers again, and found herself gasping slightly as Hermione's hands wound themselves through her hair.

"Work on your listening skills, Professor, I said I love you," Hermione laughed, as she sat back slightly. "If I thought you were blackmailing me I would have said something more like… _How dare you try and force me to be in a relationship with you, you wicked, wicked woman_. I love you wouldn't be an appropriate response at all."

Minerva laughed aloud, "Well thank you for clarifying, Miss Granger," she smiled.

Hermione's face grew serious, "How—How is this going to work, Minerva?" she asked quietly, "I love you, but this is a big rule to be breaking. I still have four and a half months till I graduate."

Minerva nodded, and then chuckled slightly. "You know, Hermione, I have no idea. All of these months, it never occurred to me that you could ever feel the same."

"Me neither, Minerva, but I'm not going to complain."

"I would say that we need to act exactly as we have been. No discussion other than the most impersonal outside of this room, continue to use the floo powder—really there is nothing more we can do that we haven't already been doing. We've been covering up a relationship for months, we just weren't having one," Minerva said, making Hermione laugh.

"I suppose that's true," she smiled. "And—and after I graduate?"

Minerva frowned somewhat, "I would suggest continuing on very privately at least until the Fall, if not a bit longer. While once you graduate, it will not be strictly against the rules, it could cause speculation about our time together before you graduated, which would be terrible for both of our reputations."

Minerva had expected this would upset the girl, as most women would scarcely approve of being kept a secret. But Hermione wasn't most women, she grinned broadly, confusing Minerva. "Really?" she asked, "After that—we, I mean you would be willing, to—to be out in the open with me?"

Minerva then understood; Hermione hadn't expected Minerva to _ever _be willing to admit to their relationship; of course she was happy to only have to be a short lived secret. "Of course, Hermione!" She exclaimed, "I would never consider otherwise. We have nothing to be ashamed of; I just don't want to put limitations upon your future by causing more rumors."

"That—that sounds wonderful, Minerva. Absolutely wonderful."

"Though, I would suggest telling one person, if you are willing," Hermione looked at her confused.

"Who?"

"Remus—he knows of how I've felt about you. He's known for quite some time, and he knows what happened before the accident. I would feel rather bad making him wait to find out."

Hermione frowned slightly, "That bastard," she swore, now it was Minerva's turn to be confused.

"What?"

"He knew! He's known the whole time and he didn't say anything, to either of us. And the last week—he knew why you weren't speaking to me!" She said, obviously disgruntled.

"Wait, he knew about your feelings as well?" Minerva asked.

"Of course, he has known about my feelings since November!" Minerva, unlike Hermione, found the entire situation hysterical, and burst out laughing.

"He kept trying to give me hope, Hermione. Telling me that I should tell you, that I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Telling me that he thought we would be a good match! He's been trying to tell me for months!"

Hermione moaned slightly, "He didn't hint at me at all, stupid werewolf."

Minerva leaned in and kissed the younger woman soundly, "We got there eventually, Mione."

Hermione smiled dizzily, "No fair, using that against me," she sighed.

"Well," Minerva said quietly, "If you would prefer for me to stop…"

Hermione pulled the older woman towards her, "Never," she whispered as she leaned in once again.

This was going to make studying much, _much _more difficult."

* * *

**They got there! Thanks so much for reading thus far, and I hope you continue on from here! Please Review.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello dear readers! I'm sorry it's been a little while since the last update. Sinus infection, plus a trip out of town and an exceptionally stubborn chapter, have resulted in the delay. I reread the chapter before posting it last week and I decided I didn't like it at all, I'm still not one-hundred percent pleased, but I think it will do well. Let me know what you think! I'll be updating significantly sooner this time!**

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It was three weeks after their initial discussion, that Minerva and Hermione were found shouting on opposite ends of the transfiguration hall, witnessed by half a dozen students and Professor Lupin. Most everyone agreed that the head girl had obviously lost her mind after finally admitting her full story to the press. That could be the _only _excuse for such a loss of control.

They had been at their usual Tuesday evening meeting, discussing Hermione's studies when the argument had started, "Well," Hermione began, "I'm making great progress on my research; I imagine I'll have the paper completed by the beginning of May, at the latest."

Minerva nodded, "Wonderful, Hermione. I think that covers just about everything for today, you've been making fantastic progress."

"Not quite everything," Hermione interrupted, glancing at her agenda, "We still need to schedule the practical aspect, I was hoping we could complete that on Thursday. If you aren't free then, perhaps next Tuesday?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow, "You can't be serious, Hermione." She had expected this _eventually_, but she didn't think that Hermione would be so foolish as to try again _this_ soon, yet the girl seemed to find it unfathomable that she would do anything _other _than continuing her experiments this week. She stared at Minerva blankly for a moment, before shaking her head slightly.

"Of course I am," she said slowly, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Hermione, you're still recovering from your last Animagi attempt—_if _I allow you to attempt it again, it certainly won't be for another month at the very least. I would suggest closer to two months."

"Minerva," Hermione said, a spark of challenge flickering in her eyes. "I _will_ be trying this again, and I will be doing it soon. There isn't any other option."

"I'm sorry, Miss. Granger," Minerva said with an uncharacteristic huff, "That's my final decision in this matter."

Hermione growled, "Don't you Miss. Granger, me, _Professor_."

Minerva frowned, exhaling a deep breath and desperately trying to stay calm, "I think it would be best if we end our meeting at this point, Miss. Granger. I will see you again Thursday," she said exiting the classroom, intent on returning to her office to grade papers, and hopefully avoiding further argument. She could talk with Hermione more later, but this wasn't the time or place for a conversation like this. At the rate they were going the entire hall would be hearing their argument soon enough. Unfortunately, Hermione didn't seem to have the same thoughts.

The younger witch stood shocked for a moment, before her Gryffindor temper got the best of her, spinning on her heel she stormed into the hall calling out to Minerva, "This conversation is certainly _not _over, Professor."

"Hermione," Minerva's steely voice warned.

"No." Hermione snapped, "What happened before was an accident, pure and simple. An accident, may I add, which would not have happened were it not for _you_." Minerva's eyes widened at that, Hermione was playing very low indeed.

"Miss. Granger, I insist—"

"Professor McGonagall, we made an agreement when I began this project. If I am to graduate from Hogwarts, I _must_ master my Animagus transformation. Waiting two months to attempt that is negligent at best! If I have more difficulties, I won't have time to work them out."

"Miss. Granger," Minerva interrupted loudly, "I am sure that you will have no more difficulties, but you _must _allow a full recovery before attempting this again."

"Minerva McGonagall I will not fail to graduate from Hogwarts because _you _aren't Gryffindor enough to let me try again!"

Minerva gasped at the accusation; it was one thing to argue with her, another thing entirely to accuse her of cowardice. At this point a crowd of student's had gathered, waiting to see the Head Girl punished for her disobedience. Hermione could see Remus walking quickly down the hall, glaring at both of them.

"Hermione Granger, you will control yourself in my presence and remember your exact standing at this school. 50 points from Gryffindor for your insolence—and detention for a week," she continued. "With Mr. Filch."

Hermione's eyes widened and her whole body seemed to tremble. "So that's how this is going to be?" Hermione asked quietly, her tone seething.

"Would you like to make it two weeks, Miss. Granger?"

"Good Afternoon, Professor." She whispered, turning quickly and making her way out of the corridor. Minerva began towards her office, but not before shooting a desperate glance towards Remus Lupin, who nodded imperceptibly.

* * *

Grumbling to himself, Remus moved into his office and straight for the floo. Striding into the Head dormitory he found it empty, _of course he would have beat Hermione here_, he thought to himself. He took a seat on Hermione's couch, expecting her to be entering any moment, and he wasn't disappointed.

Right at that moment the portrait swung open, her swearing announcing her presence. "Lovely to see you, Hermione," Remus greeted with a smirk, as she jumped slightly.

She stopped quickly and glared towards him, "Welcome to my room's Remus, please make yourself comfortable." She said sarcastically. "You could have at least waited outside."

Remus just shrugged, knowing that his arrival wasn't what had her on edge. He was proven correct when Hermione began ranting loudly.

"That woman has some nerve, you know. Detention for a week isn't bad enough, but with Filch?" she shouted, "Is that what our relationship is going to be like? We have an argument and she gives me _detention_?"

Remus looked at her thoughtfully, "I don't know Hermione, do you plan on questioning her authority as Headmistress and shouting at her in public places often?"

A light bulb flickered above Remus' head. "Fuck off, Lupin," she snarled.

He just smirked, "I'm positive that Minerva wouldn't approve."

Hermione let out a short burst of laughter, "You're a bastard; you know that right?"

Remus smiled slightly, "You remind me often, Mione. Now for the love of Merlin, sit down and talk to me."

She did sit down, though she did it with a huff, "I can't believe you're siding with her on this, Remus."

"Hermione, I am not only siding with her, I would be furious if she had reacted any differently," Hermione growled slightly, "Think about it rationally. I agree with everything you said, and I imagine if she wasn't so worried, she would as well. But you shouted at her in front of a dozen students, you called her by her given name. If one of the students in your class did that, how would you expect her to react?" he asked carefully.

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. Remus could see that she finally understood. "Damn it."

"She tried to warn you several time, Mione. Your temper got the best of you," Remus explained calmly.

"But Filch?" Hermione asked, "Why Filch?"

"Because she didn't want to add fire to any more of the rumors circulating, Hermione. People are still wondering, especially after Minerva's reaction to your accident. If she had scheduled late night detentions with you, for a week no less, do you think people wouldn't have talked?"

Hermione sighed again, "You're right. Damn it, I absolutely hate it when you're right."

Remus nodded, smirking, "I usually am," he said. "And you should know, she sent me here, so she definitely cares."

"It's just hard, Remus. I care so much for her, and for months now it has been becoming harder and harder to just pretend I'm her student during the day. It was getting harder when I was just her friend—but now…" She shook her head, "I'm just looking forward to the summer. At least at that point I can openly be her friend."

"You should talk to her Hermione, tell her the reason for the outburst, and _apologize_," he said, emphasizing the word. "But don't apologize for your thoughts as a whole, you're right about that. If you are going to graduate, both of your fears need to be put aside." Hermione nodded.

"Do you think it would be too soon for a visit?" She asked.

"I think you should go as soon as you can, if I know Minerva, she's in her quarters hating herself for treating you like that, and worrying that you'll never speak to her again."

Hermione nodded again, squeezing Remus' hand for a moment, "Thanks, Remus. I needed this."

"No problem, Mione. I'm always around."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall stormed into her rooms, throwing her robes in a heap on the couch as she went. She moved straight for the liquor cabinet and poured herself a whiskey. Gulping it down quickly, she poured a second, taking that with her to the couch. She sat down with a groan and rested the cool glass against her forehead.

Three weeks, and she had already ruined it. She had waited months, had been _so_ careful, and then she had ruined everything.

_No_, said a stubborn voice in her head, _this is not your fault. Hermione did this, and you know it!_

It didn't matter to Minerva though, she didn't care whose fault it was; only that it was ruined before it had even begun. She sipped at her glass of whiskey, relishing at the burn as it went down her throat.

"I didn't know you drank," said the voice from behind her. _No, it couldn't be._ Minerva looked back and found Hermione Granger, looking sheepishly towards the ground.

"I'm Scottish. Of course I drink," she said quietly. "I didn't expect I would be seeing you."

"I didn't expect I would want to see you," Hermione admitted. "I was very angry."

Minerva nodded, knowing that this is when a normal person would apologize, but she couldn't make herself lie. "I know," she said simply.

"Then a certain werewolf was sent to talk sense into me," she explained, "reminded me that if I'm going to be in a grown up relationship, perhaps I need to act like one occasionally."

Minerva looked up at Hermione, and smiled sadly, "Even when you were eleven you didn't act like a child, Hermione. You're just a grown woman with a temper, and an impulsive streak."

"I'm sorry, Minerva," Hermione said. "I don't admit that I'm wrong easily, but I was today. I shouldn't have picked an argument with you in the middle of the corridor. I left you helpless to do anything but what you did. I may stand by my thoughts, but I don't stand by my actions."

Minerva smiled lightly and moved quickly towards the woman, kissing her quickly as she wrapped her arms around her. "I was so scared that I had ruined everything, Hermione."

Hermione laughed slightly, "I'm not that easy to get rid of."

"I'm glad," the older woman whispered. "Hermione, we don't have to agree on things. We're both stubborn and strong-willed—two traits which I personally enjoy, we are bound to argue from time to time, and argue loudly at that. But we can't be that way out there. It isn't fair to us, but we have to hold our tongues until we are somewhere more private. I'm the headmistress here, and even if you _weren't _my student, I would have to be shown respect within these walls. You understand that, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Minerva," she said quietly, hair falling in front of her face as she slumped. "I was being foolish, and I don't know how to explain it. I'm just sorry."

"It's alright, love." Minerva said, bumping her shoulder against Hermione's.

Then Hermione laughed, "I can't believe you gave me detention!" she said, poking Minerva lightly.

Minerva snorted, "I can't believe it's taken me _this_ long to give you detention. Troublemaker."

Hermione laughed, resting her head on Minerva's shoulder, "So we're alright?" Minerva hummed lightly and nodded. "And my transformation?"

Minerva stiffened, "My opinion on that has not changed, lass. You need more time to heal—I'll not be having you injuring yourself further."

Hermione groaned, "Minerva, I have to do this if I'm to graduate. You know that."

"And you will, but not yet." Minerva said firmly, and left no room for question.

Hermione groaned slightly and nodded, "I don't want to argue with you anymore."

"Then we won't argue anymore," Minerva said with a smile. "We'll talk more next week."

Hermione nodded tiredly, resting her head on Minerva's shoulder. "You're nearly asleep, dear," Minerva whispered.

Hermione nodded again, "I really must be going to bed, not that I have any urge to leave your side."

Minerva smiled, "I will see you plenty tomorrow. You should get some sleep, and enjoy your day; will I see you after classes?" Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Probably not until Thursday," she sighed, "I have a lot of work to do tomorrow after classes. I'm sorry."

"It's alright dear, until Thursday then," she said, kissing Hermione lightly before she disappeared in flames.

* * *

It was Wednesday evening and Hermione felt guilt gnawing at her as she slipped through the halls of Hogwarts. She had been lying when she told Minerva she couldn't meet tonight, she easily could have met with Minerva, but she had a project she wanted to work on, and she couldn't risk Minerva finding out. Their argument was over, but that didn't change either of their views on Hermione's practical.

That is what led Hermione through the halls this evening and sneaking through the portrait hole into the Room of Requirement. Hermione knew the rules of Hogwarts backwards and forwards, and she knew that as long as she had a professor on hand, she wasn't breaking any rules by attempting her Animagus transformation again, well other than the rules about directly disobeying the Headmistress...

"You're sure that Minerva knows you're doing this?" Remus asked skeptically, as he wandered into the room behind her.

"Obviously, Remus," she lied smoothly, "We fought it out. She agrees with me, but we both know how much I would be distracted with her in the room—this seemed like a better idea."

Remus just nodded, if he doubted her he wasn't mentioning it, "How did you get the room like this? It seems… strangely specific."

Hermione smiled, "This is how we had the room when we were meeting with the D.A. It was the first place which popped into my head."

"Brilliant," he grinned.

Hermione smiled before quickly becoming serious. "So you're sure you don't mind helping? After last time—I just don't want to risk doing it on my own."

"I don't mind at all, and better yet, I have some experience with animal transformations," He smirked.

Hermione laughed, "I'm not looking for that kind of transformation—no offence."

Remus smiled, "I'm eternally wounded."

Hermione took a deep breath, "Okay, let's do this." She walked a few steps away from Remus and began a series of wand movement, speaking quietly to herself.

As she spoke, he could see the energy around her pulsing slightly—he hoped that was normal. Remus had never seen the initial transformation; his friends had kept their work a secret at that point. Just as he began to worry, Hermione started changing. He could scarcely believe how different her transformation was from the one he endured monthly. No wonder they called Lycanthropy a curse, if this was the alternative. Hermione's body swiftly moved towards the floor, reassembling itself and fur appearing where previously smooth skin had been. Before he could blink, she was sitting in front of him, tail wagging happily.

He smiled brightly; she was going to _love _this. In front of him sat Hermione, as a beautiful auburn wolf. Her fur was long, and her eyes were the same inquisitive dark brown that he was used to seeing in his office. "Hermione," he smiled, petting her gently on the head, "You did it. You're gorgeous."

She nipped affectionately at his fingers, and then barked lightly twirling around in a circle. Then she ran to the other side of the room, where she knew a mirror stood. Sitting in front of the mirror her brown eyes grew large. She then blinked twice, and found herself transformed back into a human. She exhaled quickly, holding her side. "That is going to take some getting used to," she said smiling.

"But you're alright? No pain?" Remus asked quickly.

"I feel fine, just a bit lightheaded," she assured him, "And that's supposed to be normal for the first few transformations," she smiled.

Remus laughed, "Minerva is going to flip. A cat and a wolf in love?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing her expression, actually I might go see her," she said with a troublesome grin. Just as she thought it, a large fireplace appeared at the far end of the room, causing Hermione to smile. "Thank you so much for your help, Remus."

He nodded, "Go see Minerva, I'll see you later, Mione."

She waived before stepping towards the fireplace, and heading to Minerva's rooms. She knew that Minerva would be far from pleased that she had decided to try the transformation on her own, but she hoped that her relief to hear of Hermione's success would outweigh her anger. Stepping out of the fireplace she quietly peered around, Minerva was in the kitchen making tea and singing quietly to herself.

Hermione had to stop herself from smiling dumbly at the beautiful lilting woman, and quickly transformed, hopping onto the couch and curling her tail around her. She watched as Minerva finished fixing the tea, yawned slightly and turned around.

The tea dropped with a loud crash and Minerva's wand was pointed at her in an instant, "Reveal yourself!" she snarled.

Panicking, Hermione realized she had not thought this through. Minerva has lived through two wars, she wasn't going to see a random wolf in her chambers and react well. _I'm lucky she didn't just immediately knock me out_, she thought. Instinctually Hermione dropped down, and rolled over. _Interesting_, _apparently I pick up some of the animal instincts as well. _ She knew that wolves and dogs would often roll over or show their throats as a sign of submissiveness, and apparently Minerva knew this as well.

She lowered her wand, only slightly, and crept closer to the creature. Hermione rolled over, still laying down, and looked into the witch's eyes.

"Hermione Granger?" Minerva asked suddenly.

Hermione yipped in confirmation and leapt back on to Minerva's couch happily. Minerva sighed, "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Shouldn't you know better than to sneak up on a cat?"

She sat on the couch next to Hermione and gently pet her muzzle, Hermione let out a happy sigh. "You know, I should be far angrier with you for trying this on your own," Minerva said, only sounding mildly annoyed.

Hermione yipped and shook her head causing Minerva to raise an eyebrow at her. "Who helped you?" Hermione appeared thoughtful for a moment, before traipsing over to Minerva's bookshelves. She stood up on her hind paws and gently pulled a book out. Placing it on the window seat, she used her nose to flick through the pages until she found whatever she was searching for.

Minerva lanced over her shoulder, "Little Red Riding Hood?" she asked, and then she laughed loudly. "Remus. You know he wouldn't appreciate that _the big bad wolf_ was your first choice in describing him."

Hermione grinned wolfishly, and nuzzled Minerva's knee. "Alright, Aright. You're forgiven you troublesome witch. Now would it be at all possible for me to spend some time with my girlfriend instead of you, mutt?" Hermione nipped lightly at Minerva before transforming into Hermione.

Hermione groaned for a moment as she caught her breath from the transformation. "Girlfriend, eh?" she whispered.

"Aye, Girlfriend. Unless you would prefer something else—Partner? Symbiote? Student whom I seduced?"

Hermione laughed lightly, "Girlfriend will do just fine."

"Then girlfriend, you are." Minerva said, pecking her lightly on the lips. "I'm glad everything went well, dear."

Hermione sighed guiltily. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Minerva. I just knew that I needed to do it now, that I was ready."

Minerva nodded, "I understand," she admitted, "I wish you had told me, but I understand why you didn't. Besides, Remus stopped by earlier to make sure I was _really alright with your decision_. He felt rather bad for revealing the whole thing, and in the end convinced me."

"You knew? And you weren't upset?" Hermione asked quietly.

"No, though I can't believe I fell in love with a wolf," she joked, "That's just humiliating."

Hermione laughed, "Well, I am a very attractive wolf," she argued.

Minerva simply rolled her eyes, "Yes Hermione, you make a very attractive wolf."

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**Thank you for reading, and please review! More updates coming soon!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: A short fluffy update for all of you lovely folks. Thank you for all of the encouragement, it really keeps me going! **

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With April came Hermione's realization that her NEWTs were coming up, and she hadn't even begun to study yet. Minerva had made the mistake of laughing once—Hermione proceeded to lecture her for over half an hour about the importance of exams before returning to her books.

What Hermione failed to understand was that Minerva agreed whole heartedly that the exams were important, she just didn't think _Hermione_ had need to worry. Just from the discussions they had shared in her rooms Minerva knew Hermione would blow the examiners away. But Hermione would hear none of it, she therefore spent each evening either planted firmly with a book, or working on her research paper. Minerva didn't mind too much though, seeing as how she was usually planted on Minerva's couch while studying.

It was the first Saturday in April when Minerva had made the decision, as Hermione commented on how _lucky_ she was to have finished all of her class essays for the year ahead of time; Minerva waived her wand, effectively banishing Hermione's school books.

She would have laughed, had she not been so afraid of the unavoidable rage which her witch would unleash. Hermione sat staring directly where her book had been; mouth comically agape, hair falling messily around her face. Minerva leaned over and kissed her gently, rousing her from her shock.

"Minerva!" she exclaimed, "What on earth are you doing? I only have eight weeks left to study!"

"Hermione exhale," she said calmly. "You will return to your studies tomorrow, I promise. Further, I won't even complain as you study for the rest of the year. Just give me today."

Hermione pressed her fingers against her eyes, "Minerva, I really—really do not have time for this right now."

"Hermione, I'm a professor. I have known the examiners for 30 years. I assure you, you are more than prepared enough to take one Saturday afternoon off."

Hermione glared slightly at the woman, but she couldn't find it in her to say no, "Alright, one afternoon."

Minerva grinned, "Good. I'm going to take you on a date." Hermione's mouth dropped again, and this time Minerva allowed herself the laugh. "Don't look so shocked. People in relationships do occasionally do such things."

"Minerva, I would love to, really I would. But, how is that possible, love? We, well, we still can't be seen out together."

Minerva's eyes twinkled devilishly. "Just trust me. We won't be recognized. I haven't been seen in public wearing anything other than these robes, and this hair, in nearly 15 years. And if you tie your hair back, you're nearly unrecognizable to those who don't know you. We'll go to muggle London."

Hermione beamed then, beginning to see the plan take form. "You're sure this isn't too risky?" she asked.

"I promise, Hermione. I would never take a risk like that." Hermione nodded quickly, stepping towards the fire place. "What time should I meet you? And where?"

"Meet me in the Shrieking Shack. We both have our ways of getting there, and we can apparate in and out. Would 4:30 be acceptable?"

Hermione nodded, "I'll see you then."

Hermione was terribly nervous as she trotted through the tunnel on her way to the shack. She wouldn't admit it to Minerva, but she had never actually been on a date before—the Yule ball was her closest experience, and that wasn't exactly a wonderful night.

Slipping quietly into the dusty room, she glanced around, looking for Minerva. Seeing that she had arrived first, she transformed, straightening her dress. She desperately hoped that she wasn't over dressed—Minerva hadn't told her exactly what to expect, but she could only assume a night in London meant nicer attire than usual, at least that's what she was hoping, otherwise she was going to be humiliatingly overdressed.

She had chosen to wear the red dress she had bought for Fleur and Bill's wedding. She didn't have much formal clothing, but this dress was one of her prized possessions. She loved how it fit her, and it always gave her a bit more Gryffindor courage. She would need that tonight.

Hearing a noise behind her, she turned quickly, smiling when the tabby cat happily sauntered into the room. "Good Evening, Minerva," she smiled.

As quickly as she greeted the witch, she had transformed. Hermione couldn't contain the slight gasp that left her lips. If she had been impressed seeing Minerva in jeans and a sweater, it was nothing in comparison to her feelings right now. Minerva stood before her wearing a form fitting, knee length, black dress. _I can see her legs_, Hermione thought dazedly, _I can see Minerva McGonagall's legs—Minerva McGonagall's fantastic legs._

Glancing back up she smiled to see the witch had left her hair down, something which was a constant reminder that their relationship was something far beyond that of their old friendship. If Hermione was to guess, she would guess that she was the first person to see Minerva like this in many years, and that made her smile.

"You look stunning, Minerva," she whispered, approaching the woman. "Absolutely breathtaking."

Minerva ran a hand over Hermione's cheek, and kissed her gently, "A month ago I would have thought you were joking, but I think I may be starting to believe you."

"I hope so," she whispered.

"Hermione darling, you look spectacular. Shall we?" she asked, offering Hermione her arm. Hermione nodded, taking Minerva's arm quickly.

Feeling the slight tug of apparition, Hermione knew that this night would be unforgettable, and she was right.

The two women had spent the entire evening in London, and neither could remember having a better time. Minerva, knowing of Hermione's love for Shakespeare, took her to see a showing of Much Ado About Nothing at the Globe, and took delight in watching the younger woman mouth the lines under her breath.

They had followed the performance with dinner, and quite a few drinks, at a local restaurant. The date wasn't overly unexpected, it was classic and romantic. By the time they reappeared at Hogwarts, both of their heads were spinning from wine and laughter.

Minerva attempted to whisper, "Hermione, you must—must be quiet. We can't be caught sneaking back into the castle."

Hermione burst into a fit of giggles, "I know _headmistress_. I'll be silent as a… as a… as a wolf? Are wolves silent?"

Minerva forced herself to remain calm, "Not usually. But Remus is unusually quiet. Come now though, follow me." She transformed quickly, and Hermione followed suit.

They were lucky, as headmistress, the gates of Hogwarts could recognize Minerva's magic and allow her entrance whenever she pleased. Had Hermione been alone, she wouldn't have been so lucky. They both moved quickly across the grounds and up the stairs into the castle.

Upon reaching her rooms, Minerva quickly transfigured and spoke the password, as Hermione followed her quickly. "We made it!" Hermione smiled, tripping out of her shoes immediately, and finding herself balanced precariously against Minerva. "Sor-sorry," she whispered as Minerva's lips met hers.

Delicate hands swept over Hermione's sides as she kissed her passionately, "Did I mention how deliciously gorgeous you looked this evening?" she asked. And Hermione bit back a slight moan as Minerva's lips danced down her neck.

"Oh Minerva," she groaned, "You're going to be the death of me."

Minerva pulled away slightly, whispering in her love's ear, "Not quite yet, darling."

Minerva smiled, hearing the labored breathing of the witch behind her. That dress, combined with a generous supply of wine and the constant jingling of Hermione's laugh, had left Minerva nearly desperate to claim the younger witch, but she knew she had to be patient. It wouldn't be right to do such a thing before Hermione finished school.

Minerva still liked to believe she had _some _scruples, though those scruples had no rules against teasing. Minerva smiled as she pulled two hangover potions out of her cabinet, tonight had been a perfect night.

Turning back around she found Hermione curled up on her couch, nearly asleep as she awaited Minerva's return from the kitchen. "Hermione, darling?" she whispered, "Hermione are you alright to go back to your rooms, or do you need to sleep here?"

Hermione merely muttered incoherently, and latched her hand firmly around Minerva's, causing her to smile. "Alright Love, I'll leave a potion right here for you." She kissed Hermione's forehead lightly as she summoned a blanket to place around her. "Goodnight, my darling."

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A loud buzzing filled Hermione's mind as she regained consciousness the next morning, she struggled to open her eyes, and found herself vaguely wondering if she had been stunned. Glancing around she relaxed, realizing she was still in Minerva's sitting room, and smiled seeing the small vial.

"Thank Merlin for that woman," she groaned, swallowing the potion quickly, and sighing as she felt her headache slipping away.

"I see you've finally woken up," said a voice from the doorway. "I was starting to wonder if I had killed you."

Hermione smiled towards Minerva, "I think you nearly did. I have to stop trying to keep up with the Scot," she laughed.

"You'll never succeed, dear."

Hermione grinned, "I should probably get back to my room. I certainly can't go to breakfast wearing this, and I will need to eat something soon."

Minerva nodded, "I thought as much, will I see you later?"

Hermione sighed, "As my professor, yes. As my Minerva, probably not. I really do need to get some studying in today, and I've already slept half the day away." Hermione stood up and kissed Minerva lightly before stepping into the fire place.

As she stepped into her dormitory, she nearly stepped back into the fire. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?!" she exclaimed.

The red head turned from her window quickly, "I was wondering if you would ever turn up."

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**More coming soon! Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Sorry for the cliff-hanger everyone, but as you see, I've updated quickly! Another quick one for you today, but I think you'll enjoy it. Yay for making threats against characters I dislike! Enjoy!**

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"That doesn't answer my question," Hermione snarled, her wand pointing dangerously between the boy's eyes. "Why the hell are you in my private rooms, uninvited, Ronald Weasely?"

Gone was the confidant smirk which had started the conversation, Ron paled considerably and was holding his hands up in front of him. "I just wanted to talk, Hermes," at the growl Hermione issued, he amended his statement, "Hermione! Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to talk, really."

Hermione considered him for a moment. He was sweating and red in the face, and glancing about nervously. She couldn't help but roll her eyes; the moron really didn't know her at all. _But,_ she thought, _he was your friend for seven years. It can't hurt to talk to him._ She sighed heavily, damn her sentimentality. "Would you like some tea, Ron?"

"No thanks, I'm fine."

"Alright, give me five minutes to change," she told him as she started for her stairs.

"You—you look beautiful, Hermione," he said quietly.

"Thanks," she replied, rolling her eyes slightly. Entering her room, she took a much needed moment to breathe. What the heck was he doing here? He could have written to let her know he was coming! _Yea right,_ she thought to herself, _when has Ron ever been considerate like that?_ She would talk to him, for Harry's sake. At this point she knew she wanted to forgive Harry, and sooner rather than later. Mending her relationship with Ron would certainly benefit Harry.

After several deep breaths Hermione changed into a pair of jeans and an old jumper, letting her hair fall down around her shoulders. Stepping out of her room she found Ron picking awkwardly at his teeth. "Alright Ron, what's up?" she asked. If he wanted to talk, he would be the one starting, not her.

"Look Hermione, I realize now I was wrong for how I treated you. I came to apologize," he explained. She raised an eyebrow with a suspicious glare; Ron rarely apologized after they argued, that had always been her job. "I guess—I was just in shock. You and I had been going wonderfully, and then you could barely look at me. I had all these months of frustration pent up, and when I heard the truth, I just exploded. It wasn't fair of me, and I am so sorry. I was supposed to take care of you, and be your friend. I was supposed to love you, and I failed at all three of those things."

Hermione could only stare for a moment. Who was this boy, and what had he done with Ron? She felt as if her mind was torn in two. She wanted to hit him, to scream and cry and beat him bloody—but he was Ron. Her Ron. The same boy who had been there for so many years, she needed to forgive him. She needed to move past all of this, but after everything he had done, could she ever trust him again?

"Thank you, Ron," she said carefully, still considering her options. "I appreciate that."

"So we're okay?" he said, quickly moving onto the other side of her couch.

Hermione stood quickly, moving away from him. "Look—Ron. I want to forgive you, I do. I want to be friends again. But—well, you're still going to need to be patient with me. You said some pretty unforgivable things—I haven't even forgiven Harry yet, and he didn't do anything near what you did, Ron. You called me a whore; you exposed me to the entire world. That—that can't be just forgotten with one apology."

Hermione cringed as she watched Ron's ears turn red; seven years of friendship had taught her what that meant. Ron was pissed, but she was surprised when, after several deep breaths, he regained his composure. He grabbed her hand, pulling her back towards the couch, and she frowned. "Hermione, look, we need to move past this. You know as well as I do that we're meant to be. You love me. We're going to get married, have a family—everything we ever wanted! All we have to do is move past this one little bump."

Hermione tore her hand away quickly, "No Ron, that isn't what I wanted, that isn't what I ever wanted. That's what _you_ wanted," she spat, looking at him disgustedly. She shook her head slightly, "But you know what? That doesn't matter. I am interested in being friends again—someday, I hope. I am not interested in being involved with you though. I'm sorry, Ron."

He quickly moved closer to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hermione, please, just give me a chance. You know I'm not the one who hurt you."

That was it; Hermione was on her feet in an instant. "No Ron, you weren't the one that hurt me, but you hurt me in other ways. I don't know what will become of our friendship, but we will never be in a relationship again. The answer is no! That's all there is." She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She could feel the boiling blood rushing through her veins and the uncontrollable fear and anger which always overtook her in his presence. He wasn't understanding, he wasn't listening—he _never _listened!

"Hermione! Why won't you even consider it?"

"Because Ron, you're an asshole, and I'm taken!" she roared, losing her temper. A moment later she covered her mouth with a squeak. She hadn't meant to say that. "I shouldn't have said that."

Ron glared at her venomously, "So all that shit you told the Prophet—it was all lies. You _have_ been cheating on me?"

"What?" Hermione spat, laughing, "Ron, we haven't been together in nearly a year!"

"Oh you knew, Hermes, you knew we were going to get back together."

Hermione groaned with frustration and threw a pillow at him, "Wake up, Ron! It was _never _going to happen."

Suddenly Ron's eyes glowed, "You little strumpet!" he laughed, "That's why you stumbled through the fireplace looking like that! You were out all night, still wearing the same clothes and everything!"

"Ronald," she warned, but he continued.

"The head girl was off, who knows where, getting fucked!" The stinging hex hit him before he could even finish the last word, and his entire face was swollen beyond recognition. She sent off a quick Patronus before kneeling in front of Ron, and whispering dangerously.

"Ronald Weasely, you don't know shit about me, or my love life. I highly suggest you leave me alone, otherwise you are going to find yourself with quite the enemy. I will be changing my password as soon as you leave, and if you ever, _ever_, enter my private chambers uninvited again, I will feed you your own goddamned testicles. Understand?"

He groaned slightly, fear and pain shivering from his every pore. Hermione took that as agreement. Just as she stood up and began to walk away, she heard knocking on her portrait. Opening it up she smiled to see Minerva, "Professor," she said, "I'm sorry to start your day in such a way, but unfortunately I've had an intruder."

"Are you alright, Miss. Granger?" she asked worriedly, glancing about the woman in front of her.

"I'm fine, highly unamused, but fine. I just need him to be removed from the castle before he causes any more damage, and I wasn't quite sure who to call. I assumed that the Headmistress would know."

Minerva nodded, glancing sternly at the boy. "We will speak more about this, and proper password security, later Miss Granger. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday," she said, "Mr. Weasely, you will be following me immediately. I believe that your mother is your emergency contact, I'll just floo her. I wouldn't want to risk you leaving alone when in such a fragile condition."

Hermione heard Ron's swollen pleas as he left the room, and she nearly laughed. _This _was not how she had wanted to spend her morning.

* * *

Ronald Weasely trembled slightly as he sat in front of the Headmistress' desk, if he had thought Professor McGonagall was terrifying before—it was _nothing_ compared to what he was seeing now.

He could feel the waves of carefully contained magic and fury rippling off of the older witch as she stared menacingly over the tops of her glasses, considering him. Ron tried to muster some confidence; she wasn't his professor anymore, after all. What could she really do to him?

His confidence failed as she began to speak slowly and carefully, her burr less contained as she quietly spoke to him, "Mister Weasely, do you recall, in your fourth year, when the imposter Professor Moody transfigured young Mister Malfoy into a ferret as a punishment for attempting to hex Mister Potter?"

Ron nodded numbly, completely confused by the question.

"And can you tell me, perhaps, what my reaction was to that particular situation?"

Ron gulped, voice shaking as he answered, "You, you told him that we-we never should use transfiguration as-as a punishment, Professor."

Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "Mister Weasely, you are well aware of the fact that I am no longer your professor. I can't assign you detention, ban you from quidditch, or take away house points."

Ron nodded again, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Do not mistake that as my being powerless," Minerva growled, her voice ice cold and her eyes burning as she stared at the shivering boy in front of her. "You have hurt Miss. Granger twice already, and upset her again this morning. If I find out that you have made her so much as _slightly uncomfortable, _I will take immense joy in transfiguring you into a potato. You are _not_ my student, and you are _not _my friend, and you have continually harassed one of my students. Do not overestimate my morality, Mister Weasely. Is this understood?"

Ron simply nodded again, not so much as squeaking a response.

Minerva grinned dangerously, "Good, I'm glad we were able to have this discussion, Mister Weasely. Your mother is waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. If you would kindly leave now, that would be incredibly appreciated."

Ron stumbled as he hastily made for the door, and Minerva found herself laughing darkly as he disappeared from her view. It had been a long time since she had been able to satisfyingly threaten someone, and she found she rather enjoyed it.

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**Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hello lovely readers! Thank you for all of your support last week, I'm glad that so many of you enjoyed the fiery tempers of our favorite ladies. Unfortunately, we're not quite done with Ron yet! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review, I'm always looking for input!**

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Hermione had thought that her problems with Ron were finished after that eventful Sunday morning. She, had threatened him to within an inch of his life, and while she knew that Ron could be stubborn, even he wasn't dumb enough to mess with the formidable Scottish witch who ran this castle.

It was two weeks later, on a Friday evening, when Harry Potter came storming into Remus Lupin's quarters, that she realized she had been mistaken. "What the hell, Harry?" Remus exclaimed.

"Doesn't this school have _any_ security in place?" Hermione said with an eye roll.

"Apparently not," he grumbled, attempting to wipe the whiskey he had been drinking off of his pants. "Damn."

"So it's true then?" Harry snapped, grabbing both of their attention again.

They sat staring at him for a moment, before Hermione spoke, "I'm afraid you're going to have to elaborate, Harry. Is what true?"

"You!" Harry spat, "You and…and Professor Lupin!"

Hermione's only response was to laugh loudly, causing Remus to glare at her and Harry to visibly deflate, "No Harry, we're not involved," the professor explained. "Who on earth said we were?"

"Ron, he told me you were seeing Remus. Said he saw you last Saturday…" Harry trailed off, "If you aren't seeing each other, why are you both here? Is there something wrong? Do I need to be worried?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "No, Harry. Remus and I don't have to be researching dark arts to occasionally visit. Which is _exactly _what we were doing, you prat. You need to stop listening to Ron," she snapped, causing Harry to rub his neck awkwardly.

"I just, he said he had talked to other people, people who had seen you two together a lot, there's been a lot of rumors."

"Yes, well according to recent rumors you're gay and having an affair with Draco Malfoy—his pregnant fiancé knows nothing about it." Harry glared at her, and she smirked, "Harry, listen to what _I'm_ saying, Remus and I are just friends. Calm the hell down."

"Oh," he sighed, sitting down on the couch.

"Make yourself comfortable, by all means," Remus muttered, causing Hermione to giggle.

"You guys, this isn't good," Harry explained. "Ron didn't just tell me, he sent a formal letter to the board of governors."

"What!?" Hermione shouted, as Remus swore. "This cannot be happening, not again."

Remus stood up quickly, sending a drying spell towards his pants, "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I need to go speak with Professor McGonagall. If this isn't handled correctly—and quickly, I could lose my job. Thanks for the warning, Harry."

"Not a problem, Professor. I'll see you in class," Hermione said, dragging Harry towards the door. "You're coming with me."

They made their way to the head dormitory quickly, Hermione shushing Harry every few feet. As they walked in the room, she finally explained, "I don't need any more rumors, Harry. I'm going to try and keep this nonsense as quiet as possible. I'm sorry for shushing you; I just wanted to get us back here."

"It's fine, Mione. I'm just glad you're talking to me at all," he said, looking embarrassedly at his feet. Hermione cringed internally, this really wasn't the best time, but she knew her friend needed to speak. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. You—you've been there for me since everything began, and you never fell for any of the rumors that were sent around about me. You just believed me, even when I sounded crazy, even when Ron didn't. I should have given you the same benefit. And Christmas, god I should have handled that so differently Mione! I just panicked, and ran. I don't have any excuses; all I can do is apologizing."

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, "Harry, it's going to take time for us to get to the point we were at before, and that is just me being honest. I felt abandoned, betrayed, and completely alone when I needed you more than ever. But you're still one of my best friends, and I just really want to move past this whole thing. Would that be alright?"

Harry nodded, smiling slightly, "Of course, Mione."

"Not to ruin the moment, but can you tell me exactly what Ron said?" she asked.

"Well, after leaving here on Sunday Ron was absolutely mortified, and couldn't imagine what he had done wrong. He honestly doesn't even understand why you were upset. He began playing back every moment, which is when he remembered that you had mentioned seeing someone." Harry said, looking at her pointedly.

Hermione blushed deeply, "Ah, that. What was his reaction?" she asked, avoiding the prodding stare which Harry was sending her. He seemed to get the hint, and continued.

"Well he wanted to know who the bloke was, so he started asking around. Most everyone refused to even talk to him, but finally he wrote to Trelawney."

"That old bat? _That_ was his source?" She spat. Harry nodded sadly, "Well no wonder he got such moronic information, she's hated me for years now."

"She told him that you two had spent a lot of time together in the fall, and that when you landed in the hospital wing last month Remus was one of your most frequent visitors. She told him that 'the fates had bound you two together'. That convinced him."

Hermione moaned, lying her head in her hands, "Poor Remus, he told me we shouldn't be friends. He warned me of the risks. I've been so foolish! Now his entire way of life is in jeopardy."

"Hermione," Harry said carefully, "You're sure that nothing is going on? Not even under the surface?"

Hermione shook her head, "No Harry, he's a wonderful guy, but we're just friends." She looked at him carefully then, trying to make a decision. She supposed that if they were ever going to be friends again, she would need to let him in eventually. "I don't—well I don't exactly fancy men much these days," she whispered, her cheeks turning a dark red.

Harry's eyes widened a bit, but he contained himself. He could tell that this wasn't the time to discuss such things, and he knew she would appreciate his letting it go, for the moment at least. "Well as long as nothing is going on, I can't see him getting in any trouble. They can always give him veritaserum to confirm his story." Hermione nodded again.

"I just hope it all turns out alright."

"Hermione," Harry said carefully, "You said you weren't seeing Remus, but…but you are seeing someone?"

Hermione felt herself again turning a deep shade of red, and cursed her fair complexion, "Yes Harry, I am. But—well it's just starting, and I would like to keep it private for now."

Harry smiled slightly, "I understand," he said, "the media is all over me, so Luna and I have been keeping things very quiet. It's just easier to start a relationship that way, not having to worry about cameras all the time. We've spent a lot of time going on muggle outings. It just thrills, Luna, and I don't mind as long as she's happy."

Hermione smiled genuinely, "I'm glad for you, Harry."

"Here's the thing though, Ron knows that you are seeing someone. He saw you leaving the floo that morning, dressed up all sorts of fancy. That will have to be explained somehow."

"I know," she sighed, "And I think I have a plan for that. We'll have to wait and see though." Hermione glanced at the clock above her fire place. "Unfortunately, I should really go and speak with Professor McGonagall before it gets too late, make sure that she understands that Remus is telling the truth and all. But I'll write you soon, Harry."

"Good luck, Mione. You know if there is anything I can do, I will. Just don't ask me to be your secret boyfriend," he grinned. "I think Luna's good humor only goes so far."

"In your dreams, Potter," she said, swatting at his arm. She laughed as he left the room, for the first time in months she felt as if their friendship actually stood a chance. If only she could solve her current relationship woes.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed a fistful of floo powder; she would rather get this over with now.

* * *

Minerva's desk was covered in dark green ink as the bottle over-turned. "Son-of-a—" she swore, quickly vanishing the offensive liquid, and casting her attention towards the door.

Opening the door she found Remus Lupin, looking as if he had just been caught in a snare. His expression seemed undecided as to whether he was furiously angry, or absolutely petrified. "Remus, come in." she said, beckoning him in, and summoning an extra cup of tea from the kitchen. "You're a mess, what's going on?"

He swallowed, and took a seat, "Minerva, first of all, please remember that there is _absolutely_ no truth to any of these rumors, and that I would never do anything to upset you." Minerva nodded, waiting for her friend to continue, "With that in mind, Ronald Weasely has apparently sent out a letter to the Board of Governors, accusing me of having an affair with Hermione."

"Why on earth would he do that?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air as she began pacing her quarters.

"I don't know all of the details, but Harry just told Hermione and I. She's with him right now, and I'm sure she'll have all the details in no time. But I wanted to talk to you before anyone else did."

Minerva groaned and placed her hands in her hair, "Calm down, Remus. I know you're not having an affair with Hermione, I just don't know why Ron Weasely would think you were."

"I think I can explain that," came a voice from the fire place, Minerva spun around and saw a tired looking Hermione stepping into the room. "I just got the whole story from Harry."

Minerva was across the room in a moment, arms wrapped securely around Hermione, "Are you alright? I know you hadn't seen him in months."

Hermione enjoyed the closeness for a moment, quietly replying, "I'm alright. I think our friendship will be alright eventually—but first we need to deal with the current issue." Hermione stepped away from Minerva, taking her hand and leading her towards the couch. "You both remember Ron turning up in my rooms a few weeks ago? Well, Remus, what you don't realize is that I entered my room through the fireplace, at 11:30 in the morning—and I was dressed rather formally."

Remus leaned his head against the back of his chair, "You ridiculous witches," he sighed. "Must you live up to _every_ Gryffindor stereotype? You don't know the _meaning _of the word discrete!"

"I had fallen asleep on Minerva's couch after a date, and didn't wake until after eleven," Hermione defended, "But that is beside the point, once I refused Ron's _attempts_, he suddenly noticed what I was wearing, and where I had come from. In a fit of temper, I told him I was seeing someone."

Minerva cringed, she had heard the story before, but she still wasn't pleased. She couldn't deny that her temper would have reacted similarly, but it didn't change the dangerous predicament they were in. Remus reacted with a groan, "And why, may I ask, is he convinced that _I_ am your mystery suitor?"

"According to Harry, Ron began digging up recent rumors, and finally found someone who was willing to talk—Trelawney."

"I should have fired that lunatic years ago!" Minerva snapped, a calming hand from Hermione quieted her.

"She told him how we had been close at the beginning of the year, and that when I was in the Hospital Wing you visited more than almost anyone else. She even gave him a damn prediction, the loony bat. He drew his conclusions."

Throughout Hermione's story, Remus let out a continuous string of profanities. "This is bad," he said finally, "This is really, _really_ bad. No one is going to believe what I say, I'm a damn werewolf!"

"Calm down, Remus," Hermione said, shushing him quickly, "You shouldn't be in any trouble here. Minerva has enough power and respect with the board that if she suggests Veritaserum, you should be clear. She could probably even be the one to do the questioning, if she's willing."

"If I'm willing?" Minerva scoffed, "Of course I'm willing, and Remus didn't even see you that weekend, so he will be completely cleared."

Remus audibly sighed, "You really think they will listen?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow at him, "Of couse they will listen, I don't give people much of a choice in that realm," she said with a smirk, causing both Hermione and Remus to laugh. "I see only one problem here, Hermione it has been reported that you flooed into the room, and you were still formally dressed. Leaving the castle without permission can get you expelled; the governors will want an explanation for that, especially as you are head girl. And you can't exactly take veritaserum."

Hermione sighed, "I have plan for that, but you won't like it."

"Hermione, as long as you are cleared of all charges, I'm happy."

Hermione smiled warily, "Just try to remember that after I explain," she sighed. "Do you remember Victor Krum?"

Minerva's eyebrows furrowed quickly, she remembered Krum quite well. He took Hermione to the ball in her 4th year—he was filthy rich, an international quidditch star, and had nearly every witch in Europe pining after him. Minerva nodded stiffly, and Hermione looked at her hands.

"Well, I've been in touch with him for years now. We write to each other fairly often, and I consider him a fairly good friend."

Minerva huffed, and Remus smirked towards her. "I don't see what he has to do with any of this."

"He got into a severe accident that week—shattered both of his legs, had to have them regrown. If you would be willing to testify that you gave me permission to leave the castle overnight—to visit him, than I would be in the clear," Hermione explained quietly.

"Let me understand correctly, you want to pretend to be dating Victor Krum, and that his serious injuries were your reason for being out of the castle? Furthermore, you want _me_ to stand up and affirm this?" Minerva almost growled.

Hermione cringed, and Remus stepped in, "Calm down, Minerva. She has to do something, you know that. She only has a few months left here, and then she can do as she pleases, but the truth isn't worth her education! A small lie, which hurts your pride, is better than a snapped wand, wouldn't you agree?"

It was Minerva's turn to cringe, "I wasn't suggesting—"

"Well than make _your_ suggestion, Min. Tell us what your brilliant alternate plan is?" Remus snapped. He felt bad for upsetting the older witch, but she had Hermione near tears, and one step away from going and confessing everything to the Board.

"Enough, Remus, I see your point," she mumbled. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I was being a jealous fool."

Hermione nodded silently, "So you would be willing to go along with it?"

"Yes," Minerva replied, "But what is to say that Mr. Krum will? Why would he cover for you?"

Hermione smirked, "Mr. Krum has been using me as a beard for nearly the entire time we've been friends. He is as gay as they come, and because of his profession, unable to come out at the moment. Bulgaria would curse him before he could even glance at his broom again. So he's been playing the heartbroken man for years, and I occasionally show up and renew his hope, only to dump him several weeks later. I'm fairly sure that he'll be willing to do the same, _and_ it will make sense if anyone wants to research our supposed past."

Minerva laughed loudly, "And you couldn't have explained that before making me look like a jealous prat?"

Hermione simply shrugged, she wasn't about to admit how much she enjoyed the slight possessiveness which Minerva had displayed. "You should have let me finish, dear," she said with a smile. "The story is this, Krum and I have been dating for a few months. You were understanding of my worries when he was injured, and especially considering all of the recent stress in my life, my impeccable grades, and the fact that I am legally of age, you were willing to let me leave the school for the weekend. I left Friday night, and returned Sunday morning. Luckily, no one saw me that weekend, other than you Minerva, so my story should be solid."

Remus found himself nodding again, Hermione seemed to have covered just about everything. "It all sounds alright to me, and I doubt they will question anything that Minerva says. She's so upstanding and all," he said with a wink.

Minerva smacked his arm lightly, "Arse."

"In that case," Hermione interrupted, "I really should send out a letter to Victor, who knows when you will be contacted." She kissed Minerva briefly, as she made her way back to the fireplace. "I'll see you both later," she said with a wave.

As the flames returned to their normal color, Remus burst out laughing, "Lovely reaction to the plan, Min. Very becoming."

"Shut up, Remus," she said halfheartedly.

"You are doomed, woman," Remus smirked.

Minerva attempted to glare at him sternly, only the end up chuckling herself, "Yes, yes I do believe I am."

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**PS: I am hoping to upload another chapter tomorrow, but I will be leaving town for several days starting Sunday. If I don't get anything up tomorrow, I'm sorry and I will be sure to update as soon as I'm back! Have a lovely weekend!**


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